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I.aa diagrammaa suivants illustrant la mithoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MICROCOfV BBOIUTION TiST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) !■■ M2B 1b II^H Urn iSi lii |3j6 Its lit Ib 2.0 A >1PPLIED IN/MGE '653 East Main Street Roctiester. Neai York 14609 USA (716) 482 - 0300- Phone (716) 288 -5989 -Fax Rt. Rev, Alexander MacDonald, D. D. t. H STRAY LEAVES OR TRACES of TRAVEL • ^■>\\>- •Cs'- o. >/■ RT. REV. ALEX. MacDONALD. D.D. ■naop OP vicToiUA, b. q. A NEW YORK CHRISTIAN PRESS ASSOCUHON BOLD FOB THB PROPAGATION OF THB FAITH : PRICE, 11.00. Copyright Br CHRISTIAN PRESS ASSOCIATION PUBLISHING CO. 1914 CONTENTS Thb Sound or Anothbr Sea 7 Thb Diary op a Pilgrim 9 On the misty Atlantic i6_24 London and Paris 26-36 Paray le Monial 3Y_43 Geneva, Berne, Interlaken 48-53 Milan and Venice 54 ^°™« 56-58 Florence and Genoa 69-63 Loordes.... Qi-71 Jottings of a Trip in Scotland 72-95 RoME-A Christmas Reminiscence 96-104 The Roses op Assisi 106-107 Prom New York to Naples 108-130 From Naples to Cairo 131-140 Through Spain 141-154 LouRDEs Revisited 165-160 A Few More Stray Leaves and Traces.... 161-170 TO MY FELLOW PILGRIMS. THE SOUND OF ANOTHER SEA Breaks upon mine ear The sound of another sea, Linking far with near — That far how near to me! Echoes jut of the past. Wave-sounds from the shore, Woven in dreams at last Of days that are no more ; Days that ebbed away By the side of another sea. When h'fe was young and gay, And all its ways were free. —Victoria, B. C , January i, 19 lo. I THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM Wednesday, June 2, 1900 I E leave Montreal in a great downpour of rain — a perfect deluge. In spite of the rain, there are many gathered on the pier to see us off. There is mutual wav- ing of handkerchiefs, and exchange of fare- wells. The ram descends in torrents, type and token of God's manifold blessings, so at least we pilgrims are fain to look upon it. As our ship frees herself from her moorings, and glides into the stream, one fond pilgrim is overheard remarking that Montreal is weeping over our departure. And such copious tears as they are, too! Last evening at eight, we ail met at the Ca- thedral, St. James's, to assist at Pontifical Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament. The great church, modelled on St. Peter's at Rome —one-Iialf of its length and one-eighth of its 10 THE DIARY OF A PILGHIM cuKc content»-was thronged. The Arch- bishop gave the Benediction, and afterwards from h.s throne addressed the pilgrims in French. He looked every inch of him a Bishop, and spoke with great dignity and sweetness, in a rirh, clear voice. He 'seems well fitted to rule the Church of QkI in Mary's City-the great Catholic city of Montreal. which, with its grand churclu's. its splendid educational and charitable institutions, makes the pilgrim prouder of his Faith and of his country. We reach Quebec at 7 p. m. Carriages- cabs, caleches. and vehicles of all sorts— are in readiness to convey the pilgrim partv to the Chapel c ' the Ursulines. Here for 'the first time m Canada Mass was oflFered in honour of the Sacred Heart. The Ursulines of Quebec were fotmded by the Blessed Mary of the In- camation-the first religious foundation in Canada. They are a cloistered Order. From behind their gratings the nuns sing, in their sweet voices, the Benediction Service, which is preceded by a stirring address in French to the pilgrims. At nine we are back on board There are ringing cheers from the shore, and hearty cries of bon voyage. On the ship, many THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 11 of thf pilgrims join in singing a French chan- son, with its lively chorus. " Bon soir. mes amis, bon soir!" Scarcely has the last note died away when the ship's bugler breaks out in the familiar strains of Auld Ung Sync. vVc slip our moorings, and are off. Down the river we glide .swiftly in the still- ness of the night. On either bank is a fine stretch of fertile land studded with picturesque villages, and dotted with the houses of les habitants. Now it lies as if asleep, wrapped in the mantle of night. We see but in shadowy outline the Laurentian hills, rising out of the darkness. What a majestic river is this St. Lawrence! There is nothing like it in Amer- ica—in all the wide world. The scenery on the Hudson is very pictures(|ue in places, and somewhat more varied, perhaps. But one misses there the fine expanse of open country, with its setting of mountains, and the river itself lacks the breadth and grandeur of the St. Lawrence. * ♦ ♦ : \ 1% THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM Pentecost Sunday, June 3. Nine or ten pilgrims have joined us at Que- bec. We are now ninety-two in all, including twenty-three priests. There is also another priest on board, who is not a pilgrim. It is the feast of Pentecost, and all the priests say Mass. There are Masses all the morning at two altars— such altars as men hastily im- provise on board ship— from 4.30 to 10. The space between decks, forward of the saloon, has been turned into a chapel. Around about most of the pilgrims have their staterooms. At the seven o'clock Mass, celebrated by Father Pichon, S. J., director of the French section of the pilgrimage, the Veni Creator is sung with fine effect. Some of these French Canadian priests and several of the lay pil- grims, too, have splendid voices, trained in the music of the Church. In the afternoon we assemble in our chapel to sing the vespers of the day. Several of the lay pilgrims, men and women, lend their voices, and the ship resounds with the strains of the divine psalmody, the Veni Creator, and the Magnificat. What fine voices these French Canadians have, and how well they know the I THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 13 chant of the Church! Even the lay pilgrims sing the psalms and hymns in Latin, recite with us the Litany of Loreto in Latin, and seem to understand every word of what they sing or say. In the evening at eight there is service in English. We sing two hymns :— Nearer My God to Thee, and, Come Holy Ghost. Many of the French priests and lay pilgrims join us in singing. Father Kavanagh, S. J., director of the English-speaking pilgrims, gives an in- struction on the mission and work of the Holy Ghost. This is followed by the Rosary in English, and Night Prayers in French. Every day we say the Rosary together, in French at 330 p. m., and in English at 8.30. Every day, too, hymns are sung to our Blessed Lady, the Ave Maris Stella and her own canticle of the Magnificat being our favourites. All day long we steam down the St. Law- rence, hugging the southern bank. Early in the afternoon, the mountains of St. Anne are seen in the distance. They rise to a height of from two to three thousand feet, back of the hills that border on the river. Their summits and shoulders are white with snow. It forms a pleasing contrast to the blue of the river, and 14 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM the green of the fields that lie at their feet. By this time all trace of tears has been wiped away from the face of the June sky, which smiles benignantly upon us. It is glorious weather. Monday, June 4. We have passed Gaspe, and are in the Gulf. To the south, Bird Rock is dimly seen. Our passenger ''.t — ^already a long one — has re- ceived an addition during the night. Two Hirds, the smaller a sparrow, boarded the ship, -ost likely before we were yet fairly away from land. They are objects of much interest to their fellow-passengers. The larger bird, which the sailors take to be " a howl " (as one of them expresses it), proves, on closer and more careful scrutiny, to be a hawk. Jack- tar is not an ornithologist. His acquaintance with the feathery tribe seems to be confined to a few aquatic birds, such as seagulls and Mother Carey's chickens. As for land birds, it is probable that he doesn't even " know a hawk from a handsaw." much less from " a howl." The presence of the birds on board gives THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 15 rise to not a little speculation. Why hath the sparrow left its cosy nest and the hawk its home on the dry land, to roam over this waste of wa ers? Some say that the birds are stealing a free passage to Newfoundland. Others sagely taking into account how ill-assorted the pair are. reach a more likely solution of the pu..lmg p.obl The hawk, they say. sal! breaks '" ^^^'^ ^^^ ^^ ^-^ Hself a breakfast. The sparrow was already abroad on s,mdar m,ss:on bent. Chased by the pirate of the air and having a natural dislike to be- come tood for its hungry pursuer, instead of gettmg something to appease its own hunger foir^^'K"'"^'. ''" *'^ P^^^'"^ -^^'P' ^^o-iy Nevvfoundland the birds leave us and fly land- ward. But whether the smaller was inside By ro.30 a. m. we are abreast of Cape Ray As we steam by Channel, otherwise known as the Flf' n'' """ ^''''^ '^' "^^-^^'^^ hulk of the Elder-Dempster liner. Montpellier. wrecked here some weeks ago. Even the good ship Vancouver m,ght be cast away on these cruel 16 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM rocks, as was her sister ship, the Chicago, on the rocks of Kinsale. This is the thought that comes to one's mind as one gazes on the stranded ship. But the smiling June sky, radiant with sunshine, chases it quickly away, and we breathe a prayer to the heart of Him who rules the wind and the waves. We are now fairly at sea, and our ship has made her first bow to the Atlantic rollers. This token of homage old Neptune claims, nay compels, from every ship that presses upon his bosom and feels the throbbing of his mighty heart. And full many a one of those who go (i ./n to the sea in ships, is, in like manner, made to pay tribute, and never a one but grudges the payment. But the theme is too painful to dwell upon. Tuesday, June 5. A little before noon Cape Race is on our lar- board quarter, and in an hour or two more we catch our last glimpse of Terra Nova. The weather is still fine, and the sea comparatively smooth. At 9 p. m. a large number of the pas- sengers gather in the saloon to hear a lecture THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 17 on the causes that led to the war in South Africa. The lecture is by the Rev. Mr. Philips, an Anglican minister, who has spent seven years as missionary among the blacks and half- breeds of the Transvaal. He arraigns the Boer Government severely for its treatment of the natives. The truth of what he says is confirmed by Father Kavanagh, in seconding the motion for a vote of thanks at the close of the lecture. He remembers quite well when a boy at Stonyhurst hearing the Jesuit Fathers returned from South Africa, recount what they saw and heard of the oppression of subject races by the Boet - — H tale they then told," he says, "has been . ^old here to-night" Precisely at ii o'clock the sound of the whistle warns us that we have at last run into the in- evitable fog. The dismal tooting is kept up at intervals of one or two minutes during the rest of the night. >f * * Wednesday. June 6. A good deal of motion in the ship; fewer passengers at the breakfast table. Still Masses are celebrated from 5.30 to 8, and several of 18 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM the priests and lay pilgrims receive Holy Com- munion. In the afternoon, fogs again steal upon us. They gather around our ship, these mists of the mighty Atlantic, and envelop her as with a shroud. They come and go at inter- vals during the afternoon, forcing us to slow down and at times come to a standstill, so great is the danger of collision with an iceberg or an incoming ship. There is nothing for it but to wait for the fog to lift with such patience as one can command. We pace the deck, or withdraw to our staterooms and there listen idly to the murmur of the waves as they beat against the ship, or brood on the mystery of the sobbing sea. Thursday, June 7. From noon yesterday till noon to-day we have covered 316 nautical miles, and are now a little more than half way across from Que- bec to Liverpool. The log reads at noon: Day, 7; lat., 30.06 N.; long., 38.36; distance run, 316 miles. Remarks: Moderate winds, choppy sea. The reader will please bear in mind that this is from a ship's log, and that THE DIARY OF A PILGKIM 19 the "remarks" are to be understood in a strictly nautical sense. These "moderate" winds of ours would pass on shore for some- thing between a very stiff breeze and a moder- ate gale. And as for "choppy " seas, the At- lantic is not exactly a pond, though sometimes irreverently described as such by the fellow who has never crossed it, and this choppy sea makes our big ship reel and tumble about like a n,an slightly more than "half seas over" There is a deal of sickness in consequence. Some are unable to leave their beds. Others manage to crawl on deck, but onlv to ne there in chairs, silent and sullen, or mope about with a most woe-begone appearance. Even your genial rover of the seas, who has been across a score of times and assures you that he is not the least bit sick, is not half so gay and talk- ative as he was yesterday and the day before. You see there arc degrees and stages of seasick- ness, and one passes through a great variety of less or more painful experiences before the last stage is reached. Over that final act of the nautical drama (which to the heartless onlooker IS too often comedy, but to the chief actor, or rather suflTerer. is in the last degree tragic) we willingly let the curtain fall. Many drink sea- It? M to THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM water, glass after glass of it, and believe that it relieves them, or keeps them from falling sick, as the case may be. I fancy I can hear some one say as he reads this that the remedy is worse than the disease. But I am quite sure that the one who says so has never been seasick — perhaps never been to sea — in his life. * « * f ; Friday, June 8. This morning, in spite of the rolling of the ship, Masses were sa''d and several of the pil- grims received Holy Communion. There are but few English pilgrims ; including cleric and lay, not more than a dozen out of the ninety- two. I say English rather than English-speak- ing, and in contradistinction to French, as many of the French pilgrims speak English fluently. There is little to break the monotony of a sea voyage. One day is just like another. You wake in the morning, rise, go through the same little round, turn in at night. Each day you seem to be just where you were the day before. The same voices call out to you " from the vasty deep." The same sea-waves 1 f V THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM n lift their crested heads, shake their flowing manes, and sport and gambol in all the wild abandon of their unbridled freedom. And your vision is ever bounded by the same nar- row horizon. Anything is welcome that breaks this sameness, the passing ship, or even the sea- gull that wings its way over the water We have met few ships. The smoke of a steamer -of two of them, indeed.-vvas descried yes- terday morning, and about sundown a big ship under shortened sail was seen beating her way to wmdward. Saturday, June 9. One pilgrim, who has been well enough up till now, ,s so sq->amish to-day that he dare not wnte even half a dozen lines for fear of consequences. This " leaf." therefore, is all but blank. Trinity Sunday, June 10. The sea still runs "choppy." it has been our worst night since we came on board- rocked in the cradle of the deep." but with m u THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM no gentle hand. The rocking continues this morning, and Mass is said by Father Pichon and one or two other priests under considerable difficulties. In the afternoon vespers are sung in the saloon, and in the evening, after the Rosary, there is a sermon in English by the Rev. Father Sloan, Pastor of Fallowfield. in the diocese of Ottawa. This is a very distress- ing day to many of the passengers. There is longing for the repose of smooth waters and from four in the afternoon eager eyes are .-can- ning tht distant horizon, in front of us, for a sight of land. At six it is sighted—a vast rock- in the form of a cathedral, known as the " Skel- ligs," and by ten we are steering straight for the Fastnet Light which flashes its welcome rays upon us at intervals of a few seconds. The anger of ocean is fast subsiding, the stars are out. and the Irish moon looks down up us from a cloudless sky. It is the feast of tl Most Holy Trinity, and to-night, as in all th nights since His creative hand hung those orbs in space, "The heavens proclaim His glory, and the firmament of heaven shows forth the work of His hands." * * THE DIARY OF A PILGKIM 23 Monday, June ii. T have spoken o^ Mas5*s said under diffi- culties There are difficulties and difficulties. V^ hile I wrs serving Father Kavanagh's Mass at 8 o clock this morning, voices pitched in a high key came from a stateroom hard f)v Th,s IS what the voices said-needless to sav the .wner. were neither pilgrims nor of the household of the faith : Male voice : " Open the porthole " Female voice, from an adjoining stateroom, shnll, as ,f in anger: "Do you command? Are you 'boss'?" (The bedroom steward alone may open the porthole). Male voice: "Mine is open." Female voice (sarcastically) : '• Don't fall rough. We are now in St. George's Channel. On ^r nght but not in view, is the coast of Wales. On our left the coast of Ireland is Plamly v.s.ble. With a pair of glasses we can see cottages, churches, and the green, green fields of Erin. We shall be in Liverpool about Zu^l'^n '"""'^^' ^^''' I ^'" "'^'l this batch of leaves " which have at least the meric t4 THK DIARY OF A PII^ORIM of continuity. Others to follow will neces- sarily be scnttered and disconnected—stray leaves blown about by every wind of travel. * « « THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM ao "St f Paris, Monday, June i8. E reached Liverpool a week apo to- day. It was about ten a. m. when we entered the Mersey, havinjj l)een detained by fog for sonic time at the mouth of the river. The famous docks of the city, stretching i„r six miles on the left bank of the Mersey, as you enter, were lighted with electricity, pre.senting a brilliant spectacle. At ten the next morning we were on our way to London by the Great Western R. R.. which runs through some of the finest parts of England. Rural England, at least what we have seen of it. is highly cultivated and very beautiful. The country traversed h\ the Great Western trains, from Liverpool to London, is one vast park— great grassy plains on either hand, with here a river, and there oc- casionally a mountain, and every^vhere rows of trim hedges and the majestic oaks of Old England. We pass through smoky Birming- ham, and from the railway catch a glimpse of the twin towers of Christ's Church. Oxford, 1 86 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM \l ' -i! both places fraught with remindc-s of the illus- trious Cardinal Newman. In London, we stay for tl e j:;,cater pi.c of three days. Our hotel is har ! I \ Westm nster Abbey. We visit the famous abbey moie than once, and each time with mingled feelings of admiration and sadness— admiration for the noble temple itself, and sadness for the change that has come over it. and the uses to which it IS put. The hour is half-past ten in the morn- mg and the Canons of Westminster are chant- ing their office. Decorous and sweet is the music of their voices, but it grates upon the ear as one thinks of those old monks of St. Bene- dict, who so often here offered the Holv Sacri- fice, and made the vast edifice resound with far other and more solemn music in the centuries long gone by. Here rest the sainted bones of Edward the Confessor, in the magnificent shnne prepared for them by the founder of the abbey. Henry HI, in the thirteenth century Yonder is the tomb of the ruthless Cromwell and a few steps beyond it, Charles Darwin,' naturalist an^. agnostic, lies in death. Over against the monument of the martyred Mary Queen of Scots, rises that of her roval cousin and murderess, Elizabeth. The place is full of THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 27 these painful contrasts, though fragrant still with memories of its glorious past— a past which, however, bid,, fair to renew itself, at least in u measure, for England and her peo- ple. Is it not a token of this " second spring • that the Faith which built Westminster Abbey, and which people once fondly thought \vas dead and buried in England, past a!! hope of resurrection, is now building an even more spa- cious temple to the Most High, not many hun- dred yards from the historic abbey, the new Catholic cathedral of Westminster. Back of what was once the high altar of the old abbey is the Coronation Chair, with, be- neath it, the historic Stone of Scone, on which the Scottish Kings used to be crowned for long ages before the days of Bruce. Now the mon- archs of England sit in the chair on the day of their coronation. Queen Victoria sat in it twice, once when the diadem of the greatest empire of the earth was placed on her girUsh brow-she was still in her teens-and a seco .d time, sixty years after, on the occasion of her Diamond Jubilee. One other, more vouthful but of low degree, sat in the royal chair since-aye, and slept in it too.' so our guide tells us. A boy from the neighbouring >l i I «8 THE DIARY O^' A PILGRIM schools was dared by his mates to spend a night alone with the bones of the mighty dead, and the ghosts of the Royal Chapel. He did so, slept in the Coronation Chair, and boylike cut his name and the record of his nocturnal ex- ploit in the wood on which Royalty has been enthroned since the days of the First Edward. Many are the sights of London. But we pilgrims are not sightseers, though of course we do not travel with our eyes closed. Dur- ing the two or three days that v e were in Lon- don, several places of historic interest were visited, among others the famous Tower. As for myself, I went not much about, having spent in all six days in London on the two for- mer occasions that I was in the city. I paid a visit to an old classmate of v 'n the Propa- ganda, who is new Canon , ,a, rector of St. James's, in Spanish Place. From him I learned that there are altogether about one hundred Catholic churches in London, most of them somewhat small of size, and that they ar- so situated that the Holy Sacrifice o. the Mass is oflFered up every Sunday within ten minutes' walk of any Catholic home in the va.st city. On the Feast of Corpus Christi I assisted at the Solemn High Mass and Procession of the ■I THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM «9 Blessed Sacrament in the Brompton Oratory The church of the Oratory is easily the finest Catholic church in London. It is modelled on the great church of St. Philip, in Rome, and IS distinctly Roman in every detail. Here New- man preached those thrilling sermons which drew Thackeray away from his novel writing and Macaulay from some favourite haunt in the literary circles of the city. The echoes of that wondrous voice seem still to linger in the place. Newman's figure in white marble larger than life, fronting the street that runs by the Oratory, arrests the steps of many a passer- by. Between England and France, the distance is not great, if you reckon it in miles, but it is leagues and leagues if you measure it by dif- ferences of race and national characteristics The English Channel, with its swift tide and fretful sea, severs two entirely different peo- ples. We cross from Folkestone to Boulogne- sur-Mer. Boulogne is a quaint old-world town, and a favourite resort of tourists We make but a short stay, and push on to Paris. Our way lies through an undulating country well-wooded and well-watered, with here and there a great stretch of pasture-land, where I i :!!i SO THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM flocks of sheep are grazing and shepherds with their dogs are keeping watch. This part of France does not appear to be as highly culti- vated as are the parts of England that we have seen ; but the scenery is more diversified. By ten o'clock at night the electric light on the summit of the Eiffel Tower is visible afar, and we know that we are nearing Paris. We arrived in Paris last Friday night. We leave it next Wednesday morning. What shall I say of the City on the Seine, the gay and bril- liant capital of I'rance? I will say frankly that I don't like it — that I would rather live in Lon- don with its dullness and fog, than live in Paris with its gaiety and sunshine. Why.^ Well, perhaps because I am dull myself, at least in the sense of not being gay — certainly not be- cause I love the fog, for I do dearly love the blue sky and the light of the blessed sun. Per- haps, again, it is because I don't understand the I'>ench tongue or French ways as I understand the English tongue and English ways. But most of all, I think, what I dislike about Paris is its godlessness. The evidences of it are on every hand. The Londoner has at least the good sense to hide his irreligion, if he is irre- ligious. At any rate, he does not wear the I THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 31 badge of his irreligion in the streets. The Parisian, who is irreligious, parades his irre- ligion and seems to glory in his shame. I have seen less of London than of Paris— too little of either, indeed, to enable me to form a just idea of their condition. But certainly the lat- ter city seems to be the more godless of the two. Religion there is in Pari^, and piety, too, much more of it, I have no doubt at all, than there is in the city on the Thames. But it hides itself in church and home; the stranger in the streets sees little of it. Take the matter of Sun- day observance. Public opinion and the law in London make people respect, at least out- wardly, the Lord's Day; public opinion and the law in Paris make people do t^2 very opposite, at least as far as the force of custom and ex- ample and the spur of business rivalry can bring this effect about. Last Sunday in Paris almost all the shops were open, and people went about their work as on an ordinary week day. Paris does not keep the Sunday, though many Parisians doubtless do. Is there no warrant for the inference that Paris has ceased to be Christian ? This is a land of contrasts, and Paris is em- S2 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM ' ill li i i I A phatically a city of contrasts. Piety and god- lessness, virtue and vice, are here more sharply contrasted than in any other city on earth. "If the devil reigns in Paris, Cjd is. perhaps, better served there than anywhere else; good and evil alike find their supreme expression; 'tis Babylon and Jerusalem both." In the grand churches dwells the deepest piety ; godlessness is rampant without. We are in Notre Dame Sunday, during the Procession of the Blessed Sacrament. What a splendid spectacle! The music how heavenly! Boys with angel voices make the stately edifice ring with the grand old chant of the Church. Troops of boys and girls, the boys with lighted torches in their hands, the girls clothed in spot- less white and bearing great bunches of roses which shed their fragrance far. march in the long procession. At the end, the Eucharistic Lord, from His throne over the high altar, blesses the assembled multitude. It is all so solemn and so soulstirring. We pass out from the church, deeply moved. The street is almost blocked with worldly traflfic. and men— two soldiers and two civilians— are playing cards under the very shadow of Notre Dame. Sunday morning, the pilgrims went in a body 1 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 33 to Montmartre-the priests to say Mass. the ^y pilgrims to hear Mass and receive Holy Communion. The basilica which the piety of Catholic France has erected to the Sacred Heart on Montmirtre is truly a splendid struc- ture. Built on a lofty eminence, it dominates the cty which seems to lie quite at one's feet Five thousand boys from the seminaries of France received Holy Cor imunion at Mont- martre that morning. As one watched tier after tier of them at the high altar eat of the Bread of Life, with every mark of pietv and devotion, one felt that there was hope for the future of the Church in France. And yet at least to human seeming, how gloomy is the outlook! One of the lay pilgrims, a very de- vout French-Canadian, told me after we left Montmartre that morning of a talk he had with a Parisian matron the day before. She had ^|vo children-the regulation number, for in i' ranee, as statistics show, the deaths all but ex- ceed the births. She sent them to Mass. she said, though she did not go herself, remarking that no harm would come of their going She sent them to the godless State school, because they would not get on so well in the world she thought, if they went to the Christian ■m Ju^ i n i ■ I m 84 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM Brothers' school. There is reason to fear that many of the mothers of France are to-day like t'lis Parisian dame— solicitous about the things of this world, and neither knowing nor caring for the things that are above. At dinner, in the restaurant at Boulogne on Friday, only meat was served. We asked for fish, but could get none. At lunch, in our own hotel here at Paris the same evening, again no fish. True, the railway restaurant at Boulogne and the hotel at Paris cater to the travelling public. Rut do not the French themselves travel? And if, in travelling, they eai fish on Friday, will not fish be forthcoming when asked for? I have said that Paris does not keep the Sunday— at least the Sunday rest ; I fear that France does not keep Friday, or keeps it but very indiflferently. I speak as one less wise and under correction. ..iit putting this and that together, I cannot buL conclude that there is a dreadful decay of faith in France. It does not seem possible that the France of the Catholic Missions, the France of our Lady of Lourdes. will be lost to the Church. But if she is to be saved to God and Church, it will be so as by fire. Another chastisement, cutting deeper into the nation's life than that of 1870, THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 35 must first bring to her knees, and to the very dust m penance, the Eldest Daughter of the Church. I am at the end of my chapter, and not a word about the Exposition. I have visited he grounds but once, and then viewed them from the Eiffel Tower, midway to the top The buddmgs. which stand on both banks of the Seme are certainly very grand. Thev seem to be more spac:.,us. upon the whole, than were those of the Chicago E.xposition. But they do not stand by themselves and apart, as was the case in Chicago; you do not the s,ght so beaufful as was that of the White City on the shores of Lake Michigan. The v'cw to be had from the Ferris Wheel at Chicago was. I think, finer than that which you get to-day from the Eiffel Tower at ^'oiC^^:T ^' ^-'r ' ^° '^ , t, . r , ^-^Position from without. But what of the Paris Fair from within? That you must learn, if at all. from some one else I paid but a flying visit to one of the build- have"nn''T " ""''''' "' ^"'"^^ °^ -h>^h I have now but a very confused notion. I have no faculty for seeing things, as your en- f: 36 THK DIARV or A PILGRIM thusiastic sightseer has. and can find no s..rt of pleasure m the pr.K'ess. To me it is all a weanness of spirit-and a weariness of the flesh mto the bargain. Xon satiatur oculus v.dendo. says the Wise Man-the eye is not sated w,th seeing. To which one ,nay ador. ders the heroic founders of the Church in Ji 40 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM ■illi Ml i Canada, Laval, Champlain, Maisonneuve. Bre- boeuf, Mary of the Incarnation, Marguerite Bourgeois, and the foundress of the Ursulines of Quebec. A little beyond is unfurled an- other American banner, which proudly claims a place here to-day by a right peculiarly its own. It is the banner of Catholic Ecuador the Republic of the Sacred Heart. Inscribed on it, in letters of gold, which first were written in blood, are the words of the martyred President, Garcia Moreno, as he fell by the hand of the assassin. Iddios ne meure— God dies not. At the Credo all are on their feet, and the priests in the sanctuary and in all parts of the basilica pilgrim voices from • lany lands smg in unison the time-honourea Confession of the Faith " once delivered to the saints "— in the chant of the Church and in the language of the Church, the Creed of the Church Catholic and Apostolic. It is a most impres- sive and most solemn scene, one never to be forgotten. Thursday night the pilgrims made the Way of the Cross by torchlight in the great garden adjoining the basilica. The garden itself was brilliant with lights, and at each station the arch-priest attached to the basilica delivered a THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 41 discourse in French, of some five or ten minutes. In the intervals between stations the vast multitude joined in singing the hymn of Catholic France, with its pleading refrain, Sauvez, Sauvez la France. On the afternoon of Friday the basilica was again packed to hear the sermon of Father Couper, one of tlie first preachers of France, and to assist at the International Act of Consecration to the Sa- cred Heart. It was indeed a red-letter day in the City of the Sacred Heart. From earliest dawn the streets were lined with pilgrims in picturesque costumes and gay with banners, the Papal colours and the banner of the Sacred Heart ever holding the place of honour. As the sun went down and darkness fell upon the scene, the celebration was brought to a close by a great torchlight procession through the streets. That night, in the hotel of the Sacred Heart hard by the Chapel of the Visitation, the Cana- dian pilgr- -s were introduced to General Charette, sometime leader of the Pontifical Zouaves, and Admiral Cuverville. of the French Navy. Both made short speeches brimful of Gallic fire, and of loyalty to the Sacred Heart and to Holy Mother Church. O ■lj ^ M THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM that France had many such high-souled, God- fearing men among her leaders and coun- cillors ! There were many pilgrimages at Paray le Monial, and many people represented there. But it is quite safe to say that the pilgrimage which represented the Catholics of Canada cut the greatest figure and claimed the greatest share of attention. This it owed not to its numbers; numerically it was one of the small- est. Nor was it the rank or dignity of its mem- bers that won it a foremost place : it was made up of plain priests and humble lay people, many of them from the remote rural districts of the Province of Quebec. But the Catholics of France saw in the vast majority of the pil- grim band that gathered round the Canadian banner the descendants of the men and wo- men who went forth from France three cen- turies ago to found a new France on the banks of the St. Lawrence. And as they heard tliem sing their hymns in French to airs that have been familiar to generations of pious French- men, and saw how they still hold fast, with unswerving fidelity, the Faith of their Fathers, the Faith of Old France, their hearts went out to them as they went out to the members of no THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 48 other pilgrimage there. Most of all was this made manifest yesterday morning as we gathered in the sanctuary at Paray le Monial to sing for the last time before leaving the hymn of the Canadian pilgrims. Mr. Rivet, organizer of the pilgrimage, who has a rich' strong and most musical voice, sang the solos, and all joined in the chorus. The emotion of many present found vent in tears, and copies of the hymn were afterwards eagerly sought for. This particular hymn, one of two, was composed while we were in London, by a French Canadian Sister who has entered a convent there. I subjoin a copy of it, with an English translation, which one who looks at it without reading might mistake for verse, but which is really only a rude rendering into English, line for line and almost word for word, of the original : Cantique des Pelerins Canadiens a Paray le Monial. ^rl- 44 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM (AIR: PITIE, MON DIEU.) I. Des bords lointains de la Nouvelle France, Du Canada, Maitre, nous accourons; O Roi des rois, a Vous notre allegeance. A votre Coeur, nous nous consacrons. Coeur adorable, Foyer d'amour, Le pays de I'erable Est a Vous sans retour. II. Peuples, debout! le Maitre nous appelle, Rallions-nous autour du Sacre-Coeur ;' II faut au monds une seve nouvelle: Aliens tous boire aux sources du Sauveur. Coeur adorable. Nous voici tous, Nous venons, Coeur aimable, Chercher la vie en vous. 4 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM III. 45 Nos maux sont grands, nous sommes bien coupables, Mais Vous. mon Dieu. vous etes toujours bon; Vous avez fait les peuples guerissables, 11 leur suffit de Vous crier: Pardon! Coeur adorable, Qui nous aimez, A la terre coupable, Coeur divin, pardonnez. IV. Coeur de Jesus, que tous les coeurs soient votres. Au Cher pays, en la France, en tous lieux! Par votre amour, unis les uns aux autres Nous serons forts et nous serons heureiix. Nous voulons etre A Vous, Jesus ; Prenez nos coeurs, bon Maitre, Et ne les rendez plus. Daignez benir notre chere Patrie, Tous nos foyers, nos Pretres, no's Pasteurs; it ■i'! 46 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM Et que tou jours, de Jesus, de Marie, Les Canadiens soient loyaux serviteursi Coeur adorable, Gardez toujours Au pays de I'erable La foi des anciens jours. Hymn of the French-Canadian Pilgrims at Paray le Monial. From the shores of far New France, From Canada, Lord, we come; O King of Kings, we swear fealty to Thee, And to Thy Sacred Heart we consecrate our- selves. Adorable Heart, Fountain of Love, The Land of the Maple Is Thine forevermore. n. Hark, ye peoples ! the Master calls us. Let us rallly round His Sacred Heart, The world needs the sap of a new life; Let us all go and drink at the fountains of the Saviour. THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM Adorable Heart, Behold us all here, We come, O loving Heart, To find life in Thee. 47 III. Great are our sins, our souls are stained with guilt. But Thou, my God, Thou art ever merciful, In Thee is healing for the Nations; Enough that they cry out : Forgive! Adorable Heart That lovest us ; Pardon, Heart Divine, The guilt-stained world. IV. Heart of Jesus, may all hearts be Thme In our own dear country, in France, in every land ! Bound together by the bonds of Thy love We shall find strength and happiness. Thine, O Jesus, We would be; Take our hearts, dear Lord, And make them Thine for ever. 48 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM V. Deign to bless our dear Country, Our Homes, oui Priests, our Bishops; And may Canadians ever be Faithful Servants of Jesus and Mary! Adorabb Heart, Always conserve To the Land of the Maple The Faith of our Fathers! We reached Geneva last night and are leav- ing to-morrow morning for Berne. Geneva is a beautiful city, situated at the head of the lake of the same name. The atmosphere is wonderfully clear here to-day and the sun shines out of a cloudless sky. Afar oflF though it seems not far, it must be some score of miles away— the snowy summit of Mont Blanc is distinctly visible. All around are Alpine peaks. The city is full of historic in- terest. Here Calvin preached his gloomy creed and ruled with an iron rod. Here, too, the very opposite of Calvin i i every way, that sweetest and most lovable of Saints, Francis of Sales, wielded episcopal authority over a I THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 49 devoted flock His spirit seems to breathe in the peace and calm of this June day. One can even fancy that one hears the accents of h.s gentle vo.ce calling his sheep away from earthly pastures to heavenly ones, guiding hem ever onward to the Great Shepherd of tl^ sheep. ,n the fold upon the everlasting I ' tfi 50 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM Lucerne, Wednesday. June 27. I HE parts of Switzerland that are ca- pable of cultivation seem to be even more fertile than the parts of France that we have passed through. Both the hay and grain crops are heavier, at least this year, and the vine thrives marvellously on the hill- sides of this beautiful and romantic land. For beautiful it is and romantic, this land of bright- blue skies, and snow-capped mountains, and leaping cataracts, and sylvan glades, and smil- ing valleys. We spent Sunday at Geneva, and stayed two or three hours at Berne Monday on ou. way to Interlaken. Berne is the national capital. Its most notable buildings are the Federal House of Parliament and the Lutheran Ca- thedral. Tl e latter dates from the beginning of the i.qt'n century, and to this day bears about it tokens of the Faith that* first set it up. Berne is the German word for " bear." The city takes its name " de bellua caesa," as an old monument bears witness, from a bear hav- THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 51 ing been slain on the site ^.herc It stands, rhence the bear is the emblem and heraldic decoration c.f the Swiss capital. You can't turn m any direction v.ithont runninjr across the figure of a bear. The poor beast is drawn «n every conceivable shape and tortured into every conceivable attitude. One is reminded of the fable of the Lion and the Man. as told by Newman. There are bears couchant. bears passant, and bears regardant. There are old bears and young boars, big l,ears and little bears bears climbing trees, bears standing on ^e,r hmd legs, bears hugging each other, and bears makmg faces at each other. And to crown all. the city maintains four huge live bears and several young ones in an enclosure about twelve feet below the level of the ground They are shown to every visitor who crosses the stone br.dge that spans the Aar river, on the banks of which Berne stands Interlaken. as the name implies, is situated between two lakes. It is an ideal summer re- sort a very paradise of tourists. It is hemmed m by mountams on every side. On the east. Jungfrau hfts her snowy summit to the skies Jungfrau (pronounced yungfrau) is German for virgm. And a tall virgin she is. this t ■ 1 ., «t THE DIAHY OF A PILGHIM Maiden of the Snows, ever holding her head erect some 13,000 feet above the level of the sea. She always wears her white mantle, and for apron a great glacier. On the evening of our arrival she had on a cap of cloud, and some time during the night further shrouded herself in a veil of mist. Nor would she lift it as we went away, eager though we were to catch a glimpse of her morning face. Between Interlaken and Lucerne the scenery IS uninterruptedly grand. Mountain, lake, and Alpme river quickly succeed one another, hut without sameness. The most remarkable feat- ure of this route is the over-mountain railway. The train climbs an Alpine hill from i.joo to 1.500 feet in height, and makes its way down on the other side. Our train was divided into three sections, each section of which was pulled by a powerful locomotive. The M'hcels revolve on cogs set in the rails. At one time the train is on the verv edge of a precipice, with a sheer descent of several hun- dred feet; at another, an overhanging clifT threatens to fall down on top of it and smash It mto atoms. Now it seems to be on the verge of dropping into a lake hundreds of feet be- low; the next moment the dense Alpine forests THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 59 hides even the heavens from one's view. It i, a thnllmg experience, and one feels a sense of relK f once it is fairly over. ♦ • ♦ ^iia .^ 64 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM ';!! 5 Rome, July 6th, 1900. 'T is more than a week since last I put pen to paper. We were then at Lucerne, amid the eternal hills. We are now in the Eternal City. Into this short space much has been crowded — too much even to touch on here or give in barest outline. There is the sublime scenery of the Alpine Passes between Lucerne and Como, with the passage through the great tunnel at St. fothard's. There is Milan with its marvellous Duomo. " a dream in marble." as some prose poet has pictured it. There is the vast plain of Lombardy, stretching for miles and miles from the foot of the Alps to the Mediterranean, the garden of Italy, as Italy is the garden of Europe. Then there is Venice, Queen of the Adriatic, the city of doges and of gondolas. The doges are dead; we visited the church where monuments in marble and in bronze enshrine their ashes and perpetu- ate all that now remains of their former great- ness—a fugitive and fitful memory. The gon- dolas are still there, with their graceful, swan- THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 55 like shape and movement— just such as they were in the days when the Republic of Venice was mistress of the seas. There, again is Padua, with its shrine of St. Anthony, whose mcorrupt tongue still witnesses to the power with which this " trumpet of the Gospel " her- alded Christ and Him crucified. There, too is Loreto, with its Holy House, where the Word was made Flesh— a most gracious shrine. Lastly, as we hasten Romeward. midway be- tween Ancona and Rome, amid the Umbrian hills, yet another shrine draws us to itself— Assisi. where live the memories of St. Francis and the spirit of St. Francis— live, too, as fresh and fragrant as are the blood-bedewed roses that bloom on thomless bushes in his garden, where he fought the good fight against temptation and won for the men of all time the Pardon of the Portiuncula. Those of us who spent Wednesday in Assisi did not reach Rome until a late hour that night. Imagine our surprise and almost consternation when we were told that all the pilgrims were to be received in audience by the Holy Father at eleven the next (yesterday) morning. We had counted on being at least a day or two in Rome before the audience took place, and we If'" ^ «6 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM were not ready. We ran about for two or three hours in the morning, buying medals, etc.. to be blessed— I with no little difficulty, getting English gold for the cheques containing the Peter Pence offering of our diocese, some two thousand one hundred and fifty francs. By eleven o'clock we are at the Vatican, and half an hour afterwards Pope Leo enters the Sala Clementina, borne on a chair, amid the ' evivas ' of the assembled pilgrims. There are two pilgrimages, the Brazilian, ranged along one side of the great hall, and the Ca- nadian along the other. First the Pope re- ceives the Brazilians, then the Canadians. He is carried in his chair right around the hall, in front of the pilgrims who line the sides. To each he gives his hand to kiss; to each his blessing and some gracious token of tender- ness— a word, a smile ; to all. at the close, the Apostolic Benediction. Pope Leo is of course changed since I saw him last, sixteen years ago; the white hair is scantier and whiter still, the lines on the face are deeper, the hands are more tremulous, the voice has lost its res- onance. But the light of the coal black eye is not dimmed, there is more of pathos in the voice, and the whole face has melted into ten- THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 57 derness. There has come into it a gentler and more winning look, which one likens to the mellowness of ripe fruit when it is ready to drop from the tree. This fruit is surely meet to be gathered, one says to oneself, yet none but the Master's hand may pluck it from the stem. The scene in the Sala Clementina, at the c ose of the audience, as the aged Pontiff blessed the pilgrims. I will not attempt to de- scribe^ I shall never forget it. and no one who was there ever can forget it. When the Pope raised himself on his chair and stretched out his hand to give the Apostolic Benediction there was a stillness as of death throughout the vast hall--a stillness soon broken by sobs, for tears filled the eyes of all that were there, and many wept aloud. The first words were spoken 'n distinct though somewhat low tones, but as the last words, in nomine Patris et Filii et ^piritus Sancti. were being uttered the Holy lather himself broke down completelv The voice grew husky with emotion, the eyes closed, and great tears rolled down the aged cheeks. Leo XIII felt that he was blessing for the last time these faithful children of his from the two Americas, and we felt that never ffl 58 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM in this life should we look upon his face again. I must close abruptly, without as much as one word about Rome itself — Rome to which I have come, not merely as a pilgrim from afar to a holy place of pilgrimage, but as a son comes to his mother after long years of separa- tion. For Rome is to me the mother of my soul. * « « I If I I THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 59 Genoa, FRroAv, July 13. I E left Rome Tuesday at 2 p. m., after a stay of six days, which was all too short. For one could spend months and months in Rome and still not see a tithe of what is worth seeing, or even begin to be weary of a place so rich in all that sages have thought and poets have dreamed of and artists have wrought and martyrs have bled for and saints have loved. We leave Rome with regret- feel- mg as all must feel in whom there is a spark of Divme Faith, that it is the Citv of the So-^! to which, m the words of the poet, " the exile of the heart " must forever turn. The run from Rome to Florence is made in five or six hours. Florence, the city of flowers. IS built on both banks of the Arno It is a beautiful rity much frequented by tour- ists. It n he birthplace of many of Italy's greatest sons, of Dante, of Michael Angelo. of Oahleo. Here Savonarola lived and preached and wielded an influence more potent than that of any civil ruler. We saw, in one of the pal- 60 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM aces of the Medici, the chapel where he spoke his last words to his brother monks, just be- fore he was led out to be burnt at the stake in the Piazza of the Signoria. hard by. Here, too, first saw the light of day one who was the opposite of Savonarola in many ways, the sweet and gentle Philip Neri. Rome, the' city of his adoption, of which he became the second Apostle, is still filled with the fragrance of his saintly life. From Florence we come by rail to Pisa, and thence the same day to Genoa. From Spezia to the latter city, the railway, skirting the shores of the Mediterranean, is one series of tunnels. In the intervals between tunnels we catch glimpses of as beautiful and pictur- esque scenery as one could wish to gaze upon— a background of hills, rising in many places ab- ruptly to a great height, sloping vineyards, groves of olive, clusters of fruit trees, and. in front, the waters of the Mediterranean, clear as crystal and mirroring in their depths the fleecy summer clouds that float in the blue above. Over all, like a great dome over Nature's own Cathedral, is the sky of Italy. "Genoa la Superba "—Genoa the Superb —the Genoese call this city by the rippling THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 61 Mediterranean, and well they may. It is in- deed, superb. In its marble palaces could be entertained to-day, in princely fashion, all the princes of the earth. It is the richest city of the peninsula, the great mart of the Mediter- ranean, the Liverpool of Italy. From the har- bour, where float the flags of all nations, the city resembles a vast amphitheatre, tier upon tier of tall buildings rising one above another. Lven the urchins in the street are proud of this queenly city. In the higher part of the town away up among the hills, near the marvellous Campo Santo, a group of them stood talking rapidly, and to me unintelligibly, in their own Genoese dialect, as we passed by. " Che lin- giiaggio parlate voi altri ? " I asked somewhat bluntly. " Noi." says one of the number, with a sweep of the hand whidi took in the other members of the group, and then pointing proudly with his finger to his breast. " Noi siamo Genovesi— We are natives of Genoa." That Campo Santo, by the same token, is one of the wonders of the world. Trul- ho dead of Genoa dwell in marble halls, ad thi. city of the dead is a miracle in marble Every monument is a work of art. The pose of that hgure. how graceful and natural ! Those faces Hi m THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM in marble and bronze, how life-like are they! The dead seem to live in them again, and to look down at you with their solemn eyes from the other world. » i IS. i We loved that hall, tho' white and cold Those niched shapes of noble mould A princely people's awful princes, The grave, severe Genoese of old. — Tennyson, " The Daisy." Quieti et Memoriae — you meet it every- where, this terse and beautiful epigraph. Re- calling the memory of some dear departed one, it breathes a prayer for that rest after which the human heart ever hungers here below — that rest which we look for " where beyond these voices there is peace." For full nine hundred years, from 900 to 1,800, Genoa maintained herself an indepen- dent Republic. Already six centuries had rolled over this Old World Republic when the boldest of her sailors embarked at Palos on his voyage of discovery. " Were it not for him we might all of iis to-day be — Indians," is the curious thought that coines to one of the pil- ■^ms as he gazes on the massive monument. THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 63 near the railway station, which bears the Ice- end in huge letters : A CHRISOFORO COLOMBO LA PATRIA Ah, those might-have-beens of an unborn past! It is bootless to speculate upon them. t ■ 64 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM ■ ill! Ljurdes, July 19, 1900. jOURDES is a small town in the dio- cese of Tarbes, Hautes Pryenees, picturesquely situated on the right hank of the river Gave." I quote the words from a booklet which purports to be " A Short Account of the Apparitions and Miracles at Lourdes." We arrived here from Toulouse about five o'clock on the afternoon of the day before yesterday. It had been a very hot day in the cars, but all covered with sweat and dust as we were we went straight in pro- cession to the Grotto of Our Lady, without waiting to go to our hotel. There, on our knees before the statue, which smiles down sweetly upon us, as did erstwhile the Virgin Mother for whom it stands, upon the simple peasant girl of the Pyrenees, we recite the Rosary and sing the Magnificat. All about us throngs are kneeling in prayer, and there are signs of a subdued excitement, for just five minutes before our arrival a young girl who had suffered severe injuries by a fall three THE DIARY OF A PILGBIM «/, y«rs ago, and was carried thither in her little carnage, a few hours before, was seen to rise Ifter'the? """vTu- ^'" "'■■"•'^ '-<'>" "or after the cure did she report at the Bureau des ronstatations Medicales, The words that I have ,|uoted at the head of th.5 page were written twenty-four vcars aeo by an Enghsh priest who vi.si.ed the shrfnT that Lourdes ,s a sn.all town. The old town of Lourdes ,s^ mdeed, small, jus, a bi, of a vil- tt I '"'""'' "■" "'= ""^ Lourdes of the Gave, over against the famous Grotto has pretens,ons to rank as a city. I, has ts banks, ,ts public buildings, its electric ca are almos, wholly of a devotional character hoWs and boarding houses without numtr And e, twenty.s,x years as;o, jus, two years before our Enghsh pries, wrote his account, there was not, as an old inhabi.ant told us a ^one upon a stone of the modem, and, for the most^par,, handsome buildings that one sees Nature has lavished her charms on this fav- 66 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM oured spot. Nothing is wanting of all that can please the eye or st:othe and rest the mind in natural scenery. Lofty hills in front and in the rear, some bare and bald, others clothed with forest to their very tops; in the back- ground, the snow-clad peaks and spurs of the Pyrenees; at your feet a narrow valley, stud- ded with stately trees and carpeted with green- sward : and ever in your ears, though the < ye wearied with gazing, should seek repose, :, It in and c n'lne '■ c frets and n,; , s forest when rT.pri^r these hot Julv .;,,-- and swifter, fed I y vhe melting snows of the Pyrenees. But on that February day. forty- two years ago. it was a feeble and mild-man- nered stream. Bemadette and her two little companions crossed the main stream by the l.e Gave runs deeper ■ fc .r f ■ 1% 68 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM stone bridge. But a narrow side channel still separated them from the Grotto in the rocks of Massabielle, where was plenty of the drift wood they were in search of. Stooping down slowly to pull off her shoes and stockings with a view of wading this stream, Bemadette heard a noise as of a sudden gust of wind. " It was a calm grjy day. and not a twig of the poplars was stirring, yet she felt certain that she had heard the rush of air. She stooped down again, and again the mysterious current startled her. This time the child looked up towards the niche-shaped cave. To her amazement a clear bright light issued from the aperture, in the midst of which stood a woman more wondrously beautiful than any one Bernadette had ever seen, or could have imagined. She was clad in white, with a long white veil falling over her shoulders; a blue scarf encircled her waist and reached to her knees, and upon either bare foot waj a gold- coloured rose." I am quoting from my little book. But the story has been often told and is trite now, thoup^h it can never be common- place. The number of pilgrims who visit Lourdes yearly is estimated at two hundred and fifty THE DIARY OP A PILGRIM 69 oer the sun. The two ends of America are w.de enough asunder, yet .he fact of Tr ^ ng from the same continent is a real C bt S whl"^ """ T fellow-pilgrimrfrom Braz.1 whom we meet here at the shrine of our a«t Tn Z "'V'^"' '* P""^ '^ "^-'^ and agam m the aud.ence chamber of the Vatican • ♦ • 70 THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM LouRDEs, Saturday, July 21. I VERY DAY since our coming here has been for us a day of prayer, and, at the same time, a day of rest-rest for body and for soul. There is something in the very atmosphere of Lourdes which inspires devo- tion and invites repose. Every morning the pilgrims assist at xVlass in the Grotto and many receive Holy Communion. We all of us take our places, too, in the procession of the Blessed Sacrament, and at night, in the torch-light pro- cession. This morning at ten o'clock we had Solemn High Mass in the Grotto, with a Canadian as ceiebrant, Canadians as ministers at the altar, and Canadians as singers. The service was. of course, in the open air, and very solemn and impressive it was. While we joined in the chant of the Mass. the wind in the trees around about us seemed to sing an accompaniment, and the hoarse-sounding Gave lent its deep bass voice as it sped on its way to the ocean. To-morrow at eleven o'clock we bid adieu THE DIARY OF A PILGRIM 71 to Lourdes. With Lourdes our pilgrimage :v"enin.1 ''"•f' ^'^'^ ^'^ ^^ ^^ ^-d^ evenmg, our p,lgr,m party breaks up. Some 717 "^ '°^ ' "^^°"' others'wil, s" from Liverpool on the following Thursday Ireland. Belgium, or of France itself, before urnmg^e. steps homeward. Of this numb s the present wnter. But here at Lourdes as have said, our pilgrimage ends. And so Lady by the soundmg waters of the Gave let -e send after its fellows this last leaf from The Diary of a Pilgrim. iii fa m JOTTINGS OF A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. jEAVING Liverpool with its din and smoke behind, we begin our journey by rail, through the northwestern part of England toward the Scottish border. It is near the end of July, and the weather, for Eng- land, is hot. But coming as we do direct from the stifling heat of Paris, we find it cool by comparison. We are travelling by fast express, and can catch but passing glimpses of the towns and hamlets, the broad farms and comfortable homesteads, of Old England. Now we are dashing through one of the many manufactur- ing towns with which the land is studded. There are long rows of red brick houses, with here and there a huge chimney belching forth black smoke. The next moment we are once more in the open country. On either hand as far as the eye can reach, are great stretches of farmland and green pastures where cattle are grazing. The grain is ripening in the fields, and ever and anon there comes, through the 72 A TRIP IN SCOTLAND 73 open window of the car, the sweet savour of new-mown hay. As we go further north the country grows more rugged. Dark ravines open at our feet, and shaggy hills frown down upon us. By three o'clock we have passed Carlisle, once the great stronghold of England against the fierce incursions of its warlike neighbour to the north. Soon after we cross the border and find ourselves on Scottish soil it IS the land of our fathers- Land of brown heath and shaggy wood. Land of the mountain and the flood,— a land of stirring memories and teeming with romance. It is not without emotion, there- fore, that we enter it for the first time Nor does the dense Scotch mist into which we run before reaching Edinburgh damp our enthusi- asm m the least-though we should not be able to say as much for our persons were we ex- posed to it but for a moment. We spend the Sunday in Edinburgh. That droll Frenchman who writes under the pen- name of Max O'Rell, defines a Scotchman as one who keeps the Sabbath and everything else he can lay his hands on! Well, at any ; . 74 A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. rate he keeps the Sabbath, and that is more than many a Frenchman does. For the people of Edinburgh the Sunday is still emphatically a day of rest. To a Protestant gentleman from Toronto who had just come from Paris him- self and put up at the same hotel with us, we remark upon the contrast between the Parisian Sunday and the solemn quiet of the Scotch Sab- bath. " Quite so," he says. " but you should have been here yesterday while the Labor Pa- rade was passing through the streets. You would have seen one after another of the men dropping out of the procession in a state of beastly intoxication. In all the time that I was in Paris I saw no single instance of such drunk- enness." He had come away from Paris greatly edified, and was leaving Edinburgh ut- terly disgusted and horrified at what he had seen. Sobriety was more to him than Sunday observance. And yet human frailtv mav ac- count for drunkenness, and palliate it at least in part. But the violation of the Sunday has Its root cause, it is to be feared, in a spirit of contempt for the ordinances of the Christian Religion. Edinburgh is not only the capital of Scot- land, but the queen of Scottish cities. There W ¥ A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. Tg are few finer cities, indeed, in all the world Its broad and well paved streets are kept scru- pulously clean. The buildings, almost all of them of granite, are tall and stately. And the site with .ts picturesque setting of hills is su- perb On one of these hill,,, west from Prince tori r "'. ,x"'' "°"'"""'' ^'""ds the his- toric Castle hke a grim sentinel guarding the approaches „, the City. Climbing the hilf and ^menng by the draw-bridge, we see, among other .nterestmg relics of the past, the Chapel of the samtly Q„een .Margaret, and stand Yn urr r "■' '"■'""=<' "^^y 5'"='" '°ok ""tf ' T"'''' '" "'■^^'o- ='"') "here «as bom Janjes the Si.xth of Scotland and the r.rst of England. In another room hard bv we gaze upon the ancient Regalia of Scotland, erS- ' ™"°"' """^ =•"" ^-'°- P^«- The run from Edinburgh to Glasgow bv rail ■s made ma little more than one hour 'ou' route hes through Lanarkshire, famed for fe coal mmes and iron foundries. Glasgow, with popula,on of over one million, is the second city of the Empire. Unlike Edinburgh it has no pretentions to beauty. Still, it L or^ fine streets and very beautiful parks, t coT 76 A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. I tains, too, not a few notable buildings, and there are in and around it many places of great historic interest. Its water supply, brought from Loch Katrine, thirty miles dis- tant, is not surpassed perhaps by that of any other city in the world. Early in the morning we leave Glasgow for Oban by boat. Steaming down the Clyde, we get a good view of the docks and of the ships both great and small th.nf are a-building on either bank. A few miles down the river is Douglas Castle, and a little beyond, on the sum- mit of a rock 260 feet in height, rises Dum- barton Castle, famed in Scottish story. We touch at Greenock and Dunoon, and thence make for Rothesay, the capital of Bute. On our left, as we near the Bute shore, we see Mount Stuart House, the seat of the Marquis. Leaving Rothesay, the steamer runs up the Kyles or narrows (from the Gaelic caolas, a strait) of Bute, round the northern end of the island, and down the other side towards Ardla- mont Point on the mainland. The scenery on this strait is very fine, wooded mountain, loch, and glen blending their varied beauties into one picturesque whole. Rounding Ardlamont Point, we steer straight for the harbour of A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. 77 Tarbert. on the coast of Kintyre. Away to the south, and but dimly visible in the haze, is the island of Arran. From Tarbert we proceed up Loch Fyne to Ardrishaig. 180 miles from Glasgow, at the head of the Crinan Canal Th,s canal, which connects Loch Fyne with Loch Cnnan. and is nine miles in length, runs, for a great part of the way. along the base of forest-clad hills. By this time, unluckily for us, it has begun ram heavdy. which mars our enjoyment of h est of the trip to Oban. As the boat stops for the openmg of the locks of the canal, we 'ze tha we have left the Lowlands behind. I„ a 1 ttle boy who has shoes on (shame on him ») folovvs us from lock to lock, selling milk by he glassful to the passengers. The children as to say. What do we care what these En- gl.sh strangers say or tl.,,), „. „s." But the 2-«^t I spealc to .hen in C.e;ic. they grow ^y of me. and the p... VftK. g,rls look as if they were ashamed to be seen n their ^; re feet Leaving Crinan. the . este-a : r-^^inus of the canal, we have on oui right the -alnlanc' 78 A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. of Argyle; on our left are the islands of Jura and Scarba. Between the two is the famous whirlpool of Corryvrechaf. the roar of which may be heard at a distance of many miles. Away in the west, beyond Ross of Mull, lies far-famed lona, with Ulva dark and Colonsay And all the group of islets gay That guard famed Staffa round. Presently we descry Dunollie Castle, once the chief stronghold of the Lords of Lorn, and soon after land in Oban. Oban has been called the Charing Cross of the Highlands. And such it is in the sense of being the great distributing centre for tourists and travellers by rail or boat. But in every other sense how unlike is this quiet little town, with its cosy harbour and crescent beach, where the wavelets play at hide-and-seek with the pebbles, to the bustling railway station in the heart of the biggest and busiest of all earth's cities? During the summer months this cosy harbour is crowded with pleasure yachts from all parts of the world, and the hotels that line the pebbly beach are thronged with tourists from every land. A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. ^g For Oban is a dainty place In distant or in nigh lands. ^^ t»wn delights the tourist race i-'ke Oban in the Highlands. ZrTf^T' '" ^" '^'' ^" ^^'^ ^^harming re- sort on he shore of the western sea .. Ir T '" '.!'' "'''' '""'■"'"^ ^^-^ ^^ke the si^s^rr-ii:j-^-^'^'och v^uMit Is on our ncht a^i «r«. steam out of OI,an I'.av and make fnrJ I Ji'hf MM f», ^ ^""^ Lismore island of that name. Thencv <,,,. , through tlK^ Sound of Munrw"^^ Poinf Ti -^rdnamurchan you have the n,„u„,a,„s of M„|| o„ the one .and, a„,l on the other ,h„« of „i,„y m'^,"; surpassmply grand. Here on the Mone„ w:is:frir;,^:;'r"^'-'-^''"'''" Scott's well In ' ''^'"^"'"^ ^^^"^ «f the lines "" '"'"' "''^^ ^^^'"^ -'^h ;: Wake. n,aid of Lorn." the minstrels sung Thy rugged halls. Ardtornish run^ ^' And the dark seas thy towers that lave ~f MICROCOPV RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 1^ 12^ |« |3j2 IS 1^ 140 12^ 1.4 12.2 1 2.0 ll 1.6 A /APPLIED IN/MGE Inc ST. 1653 East Main Street r^ Roctiester. New York U609 USA ^B (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone ^5 (716) 288 - 5989 - Ka« 80 A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. Heaved on the beach a softer wave, As 'mid the tuneful choir to keep The diapason of the deep. Near the other end of the sound is Tober- mory (Mary's Well), the chief seaport of Mull, a very pretty town, in whose land-locked harbour ships of any tonnage find securest an- chorage. This port has for us a very special interest, as we have reason to believe that from hence our grand-parents sailed in the dawn of the century to make for themselves a home, beyond the stormy Atlantic, in what was then the wild woods of Nova Scotia. All day long, from early morn till set of sun, we follow our sinuous course through the sounds and lochs and bays of this western sea, calling here or there to land or take on pas- sengers. After leaving Torbermory while rounding Ardnamurchan Point, and until we gain the shelter of towering Scaur-Eigg, a per- pendicular cliff some five hundred feet high at the southwestern extremity of the island of that name, we are in the open Atlantic, with no land to the west of us nearer than America. North of Ardnamurchan lies Moidart, where Prince Giarlie landed on the 25th of July, A TRIP IX SCOTLAND. 81 '745. and whence after manv vvn«^ ■ broken man. ^ ^ ' ^ ^°P^^^'^ ^"^ From Eigg vve cross over to Ari..,V deck of a steamer, it is far from being as fer tWe as the district that has been namecf - ftel ," rpofo^tf'^- ^"^P-^^P-hereTnoo spot on the western coast of Scotland where land, having on our leff h , ^ , "'^'"" R,™ I ^ " '"^ islands of EiVo- Rum, and Canna. and i,, from of u, the so, ff ern extremity of Skve <;„ Sound of Sleaf I„5 • " "'^ '"'" "« of Lochalsh h gThe l^:^ ''"°'"' '"^ '^^'^ Skye ,i„ we reach pireit"'™" ^"'1 "' The s„n shines bright and L ?" Z?' is dive sified l1 T"^' " ^^ «""" »» 't ' '"'" °"^' ""^ «■' Sound of Raasay. O^ 8S A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. the Skye shore, near the little island of Holm, is to be seen the entrance to a cave famed as one of the hiding places of the unfortunate Prince Charlie. Presently we pass out of the Sound of Raasay and enter the Minch. On the left. Ijeyond the northern promontory of Skye, some of the Hebridean Islands are visible in the dim distance. Behind us the mountains of Skye rise in gloomy grandeur. As one gazes upon them, there comes to one's mind these words of MacCrimmon's Lament, done into English by Sir Walter Scott : Farewell to each cliflF, on which breakers are foaming, Farewell to each dark glen in which red deer are roaming; Farewell lovely Skye, to lake, mountain, and river — Return, return, return, we shall never. (Cha till, cha .11, cha till sinn tuille.) Gairloch has a fine hotel — with prices to match. It is a charming place, this quiet ham- let by the sea, but lonely withal. For here, away up north, one has that sense of isolation, of being cut off from the great world, which is itself twin-sister to the feeling of loneliness. A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. 8t3 Achnasheen , Fielrl <.( iU t- • • ^ ^ by rail In f hVT r ^'""''"'^ ^"^^ whence Dart of !u f '' ^'''" "^''^^ the road runs larche: '.'• '"^' ^^^^^'^^ a fine forest oi arches, which seem to be rebt^ri . juniper , re, b„. are vcr, ,:^ at 1 ^ c;: upon a ,„ch S ;, : ::'"' °' =• ^'"J*" <.eur or ,,,e 4^ci r,f ::: Where the .rd Q„ I;,'™:;,?'"'""', placed Wilderness hath M,ngle, heir echoes with the eagle', crv J «■■ f ! 1; 84 A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. For -re more fittingly than here by Loch Maree, on some lonely mountain peak, could the Queen of Wilderness set up her throne? Here, in sooth, are pathless glen and mountain high and torrents flung from cliffs. And the very spirit of Desolation seems to brood over the place. You may travel miles on this loch without seeing a single human habitation. Steep mountains, bare of trees and even of vegetation, shut it in on all sides. The loftiest peak in Ruadh Stac Mor, which rises to a height of 3,309 feet; but there are several other peaks almost as high. Half way up the locn is a summer hotel for tourists, v/here Queen Victoria stayed a week something more than a score of years ago. Over against this hotel, near the other side of the loch, is a wooded islet, called Isle Maree. on which may be seen the ruins of a monastery, "in days of yore." says our guide book, " an oasis of learning in the desert of heathenism." Tradition has it that the waters of a well on this little island (mayhap another Tobair Moire or Mary's Well!) cured insanity— a tradition which the gentle Quaker poet Whit- lier has embalmed in these lines : A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. Calm on the breast of Isle Maree A httle Well reposes: A shadow woven of the oak And willow o'er ft closes And whoso bathes therein' his brow, V\ ,th care or madness burning, Feels once again his healthful thought And sense of peace returning. Lifes changes vex. its discords stun, Jts glaring sunshine blindeth- And blest is he who on his way That fount of healing findeth! I suspect that Loch Maree is an English corruption of the Gaelic Loch MairiXt Mary or Mary's Loch). The monks t^re ZZ :;"f ^"'^^^ ^--^ ^J-nts of the 85 ^7 86 A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. the hardy Highland sheep are grazing. Once the summit of the ridge is gained, it is down hill to Achnasheen, where we take the train for Inverness. Our way for several miles lies through a wilderness, but all at once wc come upon a lovely strath, in as high a state of culti- vation as any district we have seen in the Low- lands or even in England. It hoks all the more beautiful i)y contrast with the barren and desolate ref^ion through which we have just passed. The name of it I cannot for the moment recall. But the valley itself as I saw it. with the bloom of summer ujion it. and the light of the westering sun, is vividly present to my imagination. Inverness, at the mouth of the River Ness, is, after Edinburgh, the handsomest city n Scotland. Prof. Blackie sings its praises in the following sonnet : Some sing of Rome, and some of Florence: I Will sound thy Highland praise, fair Inver- ness; And till some worthier bard thy thanks may buy. Hope for the greater, but not spurn the less. All things that make a city fair are thine, A THIP IN SCOTLANB. ST R '. , "' ^"'' el'ns. and valiant n,on, who shine Bngh es, ,„ Britain's glory roll, and stand swtr"^ Of her l«,nds-wide-circ,in. Of rich^green slopes a„,l ,.„„,, e„,p„rplod Icn pie and tower are thine, and castle,l keep And^an,p,e stream, that roun.i fair gardened Rolls its majestic current, wreathed in smiles. Scotland, as a glance at a map of the globe -Nova icotia Up here at Inverness, during the .e7,;T'm t'^V'''^ '^"'■«''' '-'^ '■•"'- h dav is a. i, ?'""' "^ ™" "f J™^' -h™ hi i- ? °"^'''- "'^ ^'"^ *«s no tnore and at no t,me of the night does its light fade =>v;ay altogether from the northern sky /S' C' '™'" '"^^"-"^ - Culloden deS" ^" "\^'^" "<« that "field of the dead so fraught with saddening memorie! to every Highlander. memories Leaving the capital of the Highlands, we go 88 A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. by boat to Fort W'iniam through the Ca donian Canal. This passa ;e is sixty-two miles long. There are twenty- four miles of canal, and thirt^ eight of natural lake, namely. Loch Ness (24 miles). Locli Oich (4 miles), and Loch Lochy (10 miles). On these lochs and along the stretches of land between them the scenery is of surpassing beauty. On either side is a ranf? of purple hills rising in places to a great height. Now they clr .,e in about us as if to dispute our passage. The next moment they fall bacK and form into line in the rear, keeping ward over the great highw.iy of waters that cleaves the land of the Scottish Gael in twain and weds :wo seas together. And now Ben Nevis (4,406 ft.) looms afar off on the left, lording it over all the hills. At his feet and under his very shadow stands Fort Wil- liam, known to the ola folk as An Gearristan. Along the plain below rolls the Lochy River till it empties its waters into Loch Linnhe. Those glens that lie at the foot of the moun- tain range northeastward from Ben ITevis are Ruaidh and Spean. along the rivers of the same name. And this is Lochaber, " synonym for an ex'le's wail." Children we of these sad- eyed exiles, is it any wonder that our hearts A TRIP IX SCOTLAND. 89 H. I uT ''"'''''-' '" ''' ''''' "" '^' heather, clad h.lls now rising before us? Even we of the third ;er.r.ntion. still feel within us someth.ng of their heart-hunger for the old home they loved so -.vell^the hea-t-hunger vh.ch ottnd a voice and still finds an echo in that saddest of sad refrains. Lochaber Loc!,aI,er. Lochaber no more. Well maybe return to Lochaber no more. The Highlands, and the islands on the west of Scotland, arc to-day but sparsely populated. A hundred years ago these lovely straths and g^ns were fill.d with people. Even the braes and moorlands, now so bare rnd barren yjelJed a frug.I livdihood to a hardv race of' sTmnle T r"^\^^-^^^ ^-- and tastes most imple. To-day whole districts are given over to sheep and deer. In Highland glens 'tis far too oft observed. That man ks chased away and game preserved. So wrote the Hon. John Bright, in blunt but honest Enghsh fashion. More pathetic is the tale of deso.aion as told in Gaelic verse-in 90 A TKIF» IN SCOTLAND. linrs of exquisite tciuliTiicss and l)cniity— by one who is a native of those kIoiis and " to the manner horn "—one who has in our own day siuressfnlly wooed the llij,'hlan(l Muse " *manj» the honnie Fli^hland heather "--Maeleod, the spirited hard of Skye. I .|ii.,ie two (.r three stanzas fron) his poem, Anns a Ghleann 'san KoI)h Mi Oj;: Tha na fardaii heatt "n an fasaich Tsir an d'araicheadh na seoid, Far'ni hii eliridheil fuaini an ^'aire. Knr'ni hu chairdcal iad niun hhord; Far a fhaij^dieadh c<»ij^reach haigh, Apis anrach i)oehd a Ion; Ach oha'n fliaijjh iad sin's an am so Anns a' ghleann's an robh mi eg. Oiaochail madinnn ait ar n- "ge ATar an ceo air hha> r na.-.i heann, Tha ar cairdean 's ar hirhd-eo!ais Air a fojjradh hhos -s thai!: Tha cuid eile dhuihh nacli ghtais. Tha'n na caJal huan fodh'n fhod. 'Bha gun uaill. gun fhuath. gun anthlachd, Anns a' ghleann's an rohh iad og. A TKIP IN SCOTLAND. 91 Mo shc.aidh I.is ^raci, ciiairteig. I-c.^ach liniailKu^apuscos: Alnntricann.I.I, ,„i Vliiai -is '.V a,„ •|,hi iHKuhaillcaclul nam b.>~ •Nii.'"ratIiij,Mn.,ms^r„ Vcann. Affiis fcas^'ar fann ., I,, H'einomhiannaMMsanamsin Annsa'ghleanir.sanr.,l)|, mio^r. The soHR .as 1k.,„ ,|,„, ,•„,„ p j. a l.r -nto nnx.I K„„is„ ,.„ ,,n,JscotZ uit .t has lost sonu-what in the rendering The foregoing stan.a. run thus in the translation: Now in ruins are the (Iwelhn's. ^Vhcre ance hve.l a gallant dan The.r's was aye the friendly welcome I heir s was aye the open han'; There the stranger antl the puir' Found a place at the f.re-en' • Now alas! there's nane tae greet them In my bonnie native glen. Like the mist upon the mountain Youth's glad morn (,f promise died And our kinsfolk and accjuaintance ' They are scattered far and wide- W A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. Some of them are sleepin' soun' Neath the shadow of the ben, That were ance baith leal and hearty In their bonnie native glen. But now fare ye weel each fountain, Each sweet dell an' grassy brae. Where fu' aft the kye I herded, In my boyhood's happy day. When life's gloamin' settles down, An' my race is at an en', 'Tis my wish that death should find me In my bonnie native glen. Wherever you travel in the Western High- lands you hear Gaelic spoken. And ever as it strikes upon your ears, there arises within you —at least if you happen to be a Highlander yourself— the question, Will the old tongue live on here amid the bens and glens that have echoed with it since immemorial time ? Or is it doomed to die out in this its ancient home ? It is hard to say. For my own part, I believe Gaelic will be spoken in the Highlands so long as there are Highlanders there. But I don't know how long that will be. Certainly they are far fewer to-day than they were at the be- A TRIP IX SCOTLAND. 93 ginning of the last century AnH th. peopling of n,e Highiirr ha : «re:::r Perhaps rather than fdt-bv tJl.t'^T^T ready quoted, in the fo„o!rg1iL,'r ''^'' ="■ 'S bidh fhathast a cairdean Mar bha iad bho chian, An' duthaich nan ardbheann An aite nam fiadh ; Gu curanta' laidir, Gu blath-chridheach fial, S an comhradh gach la Ann an canan nam Fionn. in trH'^n^'f''' ^'"^""^^ '^^'^ a'so survives HiS::^t;^;-s::t7f^-^^^^ aij «^eJts mdeed, are note4 94 A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. wherever they are found. But while the people there give of their Highland cheer to all who visit them, they have a particularly warm place in their hearts for " muinntir America," their kinsmen from across the seas. I ' Leaving Fort William, we go by boat on Loch Linnhe to Oban. The boat calls at several places, among them Ballachulish, at the entrance to Loch Leven, whence we get a glimpse in the distance of Glencoe. Even on this bright summer's day the narrow pass, hemmed in by frowning mountains, looks gloomy and dark— fitting theatre for the black and fearful tragedy that was enacted there. From Oban we return to Glasgow through the Trossachs, part of the way by rail, part of the way by boat on Loch Lomond and Loch Katrine, and part of the way by coach between , the lochs. The whole country through which we pass is classic ground, familiar to every lover of Scott. To describe the scenery of the Trossachs. therefore, after the exquisite word- painting of it in prose and verse that we have from the pen of Sir Walter, were as " wasteful and ridiculous excess " as A TRIP IN SCOTLAND. To pld refined gold, to paint the lily, To add a perfume to the violet. »s are tolltan ! '^l' ""'^ *' ^°'""" ''«»» Queen. The whole Empire mourns, and the poittui: e' oVr ctr !-' "•""'■'■'^' that is now ended, ^ '' ^'°"°"^ "'en "Her court was pure; her life serene: God gave her peace, her land reposed; In her as Mother, Wife, and Queen " ROME. A Christmas Reminiscence. ^T is not often I am in a reminiscent mood. Even should the mood come upon me. I can seldom indulge it. In this, work-a-day world the cares and duties of the present crowd out the memories of the past. But ever as the blessed season of Christmas comes round the mind is in a measure freed from the tyrant grasp of the present. And at the approach of this festival mine loves to go back, swiftly overleaping the.barriers of space and time, to the dear old City on the Tiber, where I spent five of the happiest years of my life. I can remember as distinctly as though it were yes- terday the day when first I set foot in Rome. It was toward the end of October, 1879. The sun shone out brightly from the deep blue of the Italian sky, and the soft, balmy breath of summer still lingered in the air. From early morning we had traversed a land of almost 96 ROME 97 ideal loveliness, now skirting the shores of the sparklmg Mediterranean, now dash tag ' ,1 v,^as and vineyards where the air was'latn -sw,;Tk":rntf ""'^«^- ^"-^ ""-ly sinking in the west as we oassefl Civita Vecchia, the seaport of Ro„,e, and sp d RoZ T "'™'"^'' "•' "^^-y - te of the Roman Campagna. Soon the Alban H III oomed up in front, while the line of sea-coa etching away on the right was fast falg from the view. There, where the Tiber flii^gf Home, fa4, L^t^rsS' 7t^ knows m the far distance, Carthage, Ron Js Im rf ' '"'' """^ y^ ''- - "dive opum studiisque asperrinia belli " And now we are within the city walls the tran draws up to the depot, and I step ^h one wh!" ; r"'-^" ""' "■'■"' '"e feehngs of one « ho sets foot in a strange city ■ for Rom. JWy, IS and always will be the capital of Christendom, the centre from which Ca^e he lights of Catholicity over all the earth ttd the ho„e of the pilgrim from every land One who goes from America into Europe 98 ROME realizes that to have crossed the Atlantic is not merely to have left one part of the habitable globe and gone into another. It is a passing from the New World into the Old, in almost every respect a different world from the one that is left behind. And in no place as at Rome is it brought home to one who crosses the ocean that the Atlantic is not the only gulf that di- vides these two worlds. Rome is the typical city of the Old World, or rather is the Old World in miniature. There all its most strik- ing characteristics meet as they do in no other European city. There you may study old world customs and the old world life in its many phases, old world art and architecture, and above all those old-world monuments and ruins around which gather a thousand historical as- sociations. Here rises the Palatine Hill, the original site and centre of the embryo mistress of the world, where tradition places the dwell- ing of Romulus, and where later stood the gorg'^ous palace of the Caesar-, whose ruins still atttst its old-time grandeur. Below is the Roman Forum which once rang with the elo- quence of Cicero, and traversing it from north to south, the Via Sacra or Sacred Way. At one end of the Forum is the Mamertine Prison, ROME 99 where LT. I H "'' "'^^^^^^^--^ ^"ngeon. sTriHn ^ ''P''"' "^y P^g^" R"'"e were strangled or starved to death, and where st.ll ex,sts^he spring which, according to trlditi^^^^^ ^t. Peter, imprisoned here under Nero mi raculously caused to flow in order to baptt ine L-oiosseum, nearly one-third of a arf4 hi ^' r""'"'^- ""^- '•" 'he tnousands of Christian .nartvrs foucht the g~d %ht a„„ won the crown.' A c„afn p t ^" hasTL:"* ""'' '""" '"' «"' -■ AnH U I *^°'°'^^""' R""'e shall fall. And when Ron,, falls, with it shall fall ihe Bat I should never end if I were to speak of all AntiruTr" °f '"'"• '''^'" and Christian Wween the ancent and the modern world The Rome of ,o-day is not the Rome of twenty years ago. The tourist who wandered If '^^. ?,i. I 100 ROME and mused among the ruins in and around it then would scarcely know it now, so vast IS the change that has come over it. Your mat- ter-of-fact modem man, who scowls at an- tiquity and lives in and for the present only, would say that the change has been greatly for the better. Streets have been widened and straightened, numberless new ones have been opened, and the wide space east and south of the Esquiline Hill, once studded with vener- able ruins, is now occupied by rows of huge brick buildings, inferior in make and unsightly. In a word, the old Rome, amid whose magnif- icent ruins still abode the genius of Antiquity, has all but disappeared, and the new Rome, a third-rate modern city, shorn of much of its historical interest, has usurped its place. " Rome in twenty or thirty years," wrote Mr. Frederick Harrison recently in the "Fort- nightly Review." " has become like any other European city— big. noisy, vulgar, overgrown, Frenchified and syndicate-ridden." Rome, Rome thou art no more As thou hast been ! On thy seven hills of yore Thou sat'st a queen. ROME 101 Newman had written of it, on visiting it for the first time in Jie early thirties of last cen- tury: "And now what can I say of Rome, but that it is the first of all cities, and that all I ever saw are but as dust (even dear old Ox- ford inclusive) compared with its majesty and glory? " It has certainly since then lost much of its charm for the tourist and the anti- quarian. But the majesty and glory that so im- pressed Newman— these no spoiler's hand can pluck from the brow of the queenly city on the Tiber. It is not merely the glamour antiquity throws around it that makes Rome a centre of attraction. In the wotidrous works of art gath- ered into it from every side, in the number and magnificence of its churches and shrines m the prestige it possesses as the capital of the Christian world for eighteen hundred years, it stands peerless among the cities of the earth Anything like a detailed account of the art treasures in the Vatican alone would fill volumes. Almost every church in Rome, too and every palace, has its works of art, its pamtings, mosaics, and sculptures, of priceless value. And as for the churches, no words can fittmgly describe them. " They could not have lOS ROME been in any place but Rome, which has turned the materials and buildings of the Empire to the purposes of religion." The exterior, save in the case of the large basilicas, is not strik- ing; their beauty, like the glory of the king's daughter, is within. St. Peter's, of course, stands apart from and above them all. a world of wonders in itself. Thr first visit does not reveal its vastness nor the e.xc|uisite grace and delicacy of its proportions. It is only by visiting t again and again that one can so to speak, take it all in, if indeed one can ever do so. There is this peculiarity about it, too. that it has what, for want of a better word to convey the idea, I am tempted to call a climate of its own. In winter, when Kv)me is swept by the tramontana. a penetrat- ing and chilling wind which blov/s for days at a time from the snow-capped Apennines, making life scarce worth living in the fireless apartments of the Roman dwellings, you will find warmth and comfort within St. Peter's. And in vain will you seek amid the shady groves of the Roman villas for a tithe of the delicious coolness that dwells within the charmed circle of its walls all through ihe broiling heat of the summer months in Rome. ROME 108 Eternal Lny? Ir September. 1870. Victor Emmanuels troops entered Rone by the breach of Porta Pia ami uith tU.- • the ol(l-t,me Christmas and the old-time Faster went out. The fiithf,.) v ^ '-^sier a Mery Christmas since. The Pope used to p oceed m person to celebrate the midnight Mass a St. Mary Major's, where is preserved the Cr.b .n wh,ch che Infant Saviour was laid ->" the mght of His Nativity. With the ex- cept.on of the Easter celebrations, it was ^he most ,mposmg ce-emony that could be wit- nessed at Rome in those days. The Saviour's Cnb ,s a ways borne in procession through the hurch of St. Mary Major's on Christmas Kve In som. of the churches, and even in private houses the scene of the Christ ChiUrs birth in Bethlehem .s represented in a wonderfully ar- t.st.c and hfe-hke way. One of these repre- sentations. which are got up mainly for the chil- clren ,s to be seen in the church of Santa Maria m Aracoeh. situated on the Capitoline Hill where once stood a temple of Jove. Hither we students of the Propaganda used to wend ou way. durmg the days within the octave of Christmas, to listen to the " children preachers 104 ROME of Aracocli." These little ones, from five to ten years of age, standing on a platform facing the Christmas Crib, lifted their fresh young voices in gree g and prayer to their new- bom King. It recalled the scene described in Matt. 21:15.16: the children crying in the temple, " Hosanna to the Son of David," and Jesus saying to those who would rebuke them. " Yea, have you never read, Out « f the mouths of infants and sucklings thou has perfeaed praise." THE ROSES OF ASSISI. N The Ave Maria, of February 8, 1908, the noted Danish writer. Johannes Jorgensen. tells of a visit to Assisi, and rnakes this passing alhision to the singular phenomenon also alluded to in The Diary of a Pilgrim: "Then there n the rose garden where the hushes are strangely flecked as if with spots of blocxJ." When the present writer stood beside this little plot, in the early days of July. 1900. the nxses were n(.t in bloom— it was past their season in Italy-but the bu* ■ es were in leaf, of course. Strictly spealcing, it is not the bushes that bear the flecks of red. but the roses and the leaves. The impression made upon one is not soon effaced. It looks for all the world as if those leaves had been sprinkled wuh blood. Here and there a leaf seems to have caught a drop, a few. two or three, which left a crimson stain, while most show a fleckless green. But this is not the most striking phase of the phenomenon. It has passed into a prov- 106 THE ROSES OF ASSISI erb that there is no rose without its thorn, though Mihon, in a flight of fancy, found in our lost paradise. Flowers of all hue. and without thorn the rose. But under the lovely sky of Italy and under the shadow of the Umbrian hills, in fair As- s.si, famed forever as the birthplace and earlv home of the Poverello. grow roses without thorns. The writer felt the bushes with his hand, and proved them thornless. What is more, our little pilgrim group, of whom some have smce gone on their long pilgrimage, were told on that July day, seven years ago, by the Prior of the Franciscan Monastery, a true son of Samt Francis if appearances count for aught, that time and time again was the ex- periment made of transplanting those bushes, and that they grew up with thorns and with stamless leaves. Here is the legend, if legend that can be called, which Nature seems to vouch for, copied from a leaflet, enclosing a spray of the rose leaves now brown with the years, which the writer brought with him from Assisi : THE ROSES OF ASSISI 107 " One bitter winter's night. S. Francis being sorely tempted by the devil to lessen his aus tent.es. overcame the evil one by throwing him- self mto a thicket of briers, and rolling himself m .t till his body was all torn and bleeding At the same moment the briers were changed mto rose trees in full bloom, and a heavenly brightness shone around, and angels came to lead S. Francs to the Church of the Portiun- Pertn " ''"^''^^^' '^^''^' '^ ^im in Person accompanied by His Mother and a heaven,3. host and granted him the Indulgence of the Portmncula. The miraculous rose bushes have no thorns, their leaves are stained w.t spots l^e blood in May. and can be seL •n the Garden of the Friary adjoining the Portmncula at the village of Santa Maria degli Angel^wh.ch .s close to the Station of AssL FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES. December io, 'o8. ' E leave New York at noon. It is a perfect -a inter's day— the air cold and crisp, the sun brightly shining. There are all manner of craft in the North River, or Hudson, and our big ship makes her way among them with leisurely dignity. On our starboard is Jersey City; on the port side, the buildings of Old Manhattan raise their giant forms, fearfully and wonderfully tall. Pres- ently we pass by the statue of Liberty, and leave the great metropolis of the New World behind. A marvellous city is New York, marching forward with gigantic strides to the forefront of the world's cities. Even now it IS second only to London, and in ways not a few ,t is first. We pass out of the roar of its traffic, away from its teeming, busy life, and the restful ocean takes us to its heaving bosom. " Our next port of call is Boston," says one 108 FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES 109 passenger to another standing near him, just as we are getting out to sea. " Not at all," re- joins the other, "this boat doesn't call at Boston." An officer of the ship, who is stand- ing by, is appealed to. and he bears out the first speaker. The news is received with siirpnse amounting almost to consternation Hardly one of the passengers knew of this change in our programme of travel. Back to Boston: it is like going back home again! liut to Boston we steer our course. Off Cape Cod miles and miles out at sea, men are fishing in their dories. We pass within fifty yards of one. but so intent is he upon his work that he does not as much as cast one look at us. \fter a httle we pick up our pilot, and begin thread- ing our way through the narrow entrance to i>oston harbour. December n. Our ship is docked at Charlestown We go ashore, take an " L " road c2t at City Square, and speedily reach Boston. Our friends in the city, to whom we bade farewell a few days before, are almost thunderstruck at seeing us. They can scarce believe their M 110 FROM NEV^ YORK TO NAT^LES eyes. We seem to have dropped upon them from the skies, or rather to have been spirited back through space from the ocean. A few words clear up the mystery. Next morning (Saturday) we say an early Mass. and hasten back on board. But the good ship " Cretic " IS in no hurry to put to sea. She hngers for a full hour beyond the allotted time. We could not have missed her if we tried. December 12. It is snowing heavily as we steam slowly out of Boston harbour. We drop our pilot, and at noon have the lightship abeam. At las we are fairly under way, but so thickly falls the snow that we move along at little more than half-speed, and the steamer's whistle keeps blowmg as in a fog. After an hour or two we run out of the snowstorm, and the whistlmg ceases. A tugboat inward bound towmg three huge barges, is the last object we descry this' day. for darkness soon settles upon the scene. ^ This evening I sit and listen dreamily to the 50ft accents of the Italian tongue. One or two I FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES 111 rhintV^^"^" passengers are Italian and the and song. It ,s twenty-five years since I dwelt rara:^:h''"^^'"^'"^^"^^'^"-^" ear and those .nmntable gestures the eye as fannharly as if it were but yesterday. What a wonderful thing is „,en,ory! How'it hrrdges •'St etch .' I "', 'T'' '^^ P"^^'^ P'-^^^^^' -"d forms of thmgs long passed away. Vedi Napoli e poi Mori." This mv nriie' vT"^"^''^'-- "See Naples Vesuv.!. • .>'°\^PP'-«^^'^ Naples. Mount Vesuvius rises ,n the rear, and beyond it is the little town of Mori The nriv^L^ ie from tmie to tmie to lift up our eyes and fix them on the eternal truths that shine like stars upon our pathway. We must prepare for the advent of the Sun of Justice, and from the lesser lights turn our gaze longingly to the bright nionung Star that heralds His rising. Such IS the sum of what I said, but I must own that It sounds much better in this English summary than It did in such poor Italian as I could muster. December 14. At noon the log reads : Lat. Long. Weather Remarks 41-34 56.28 Ereshgale: W SW Dis. 317 SW. S. S. W.. rough quarterly sea. Average Speed: 13.49 114 FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES We have run into a storm, or it has run in upon us. " Fresh gale " means a wind blow- ing 5c or 60 miles an hour. But our ship is very steady. Still there is a good deal of motion — of that queer, all-round, uncertain, miserable motion so apt to induce sea-sickness. My companion, though he has been so seldom to sea. is a better sailor than I. As for me, I feel that I could very easily be quite sick if I wanted to. But I don't want to, and up to a certain point one can fight this sickness off. My chief occupation all day is fighting off sea- sickness. The wild winds, the wailing sea- V aves, the reeling, staggering ship keep telling me it is of no use ; that I had better crawl into my berth and give up the uneven struggle. But I hold out in spite of all of them. As I write this in the steamer's library at 6 p. m. the bat- tle is still on and the issue somewhat doubtful. December 15, The battle is fought and won — thanks to the abating of the storm and a calmer sea. The weather to-day is fine and warm — 58 de- grees in the shade. It was 68 degrees yester- FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES 115 day and the mugginess of the atmosphere made ,t unpleasant. For me. indeed, it is never too pleasant on board ship. I have an uneasy feehng that the n,ost one can hope for IS a truce, and that the battle with sea-sickness may have to be fought over again at any moment. Under such circumstances writing is not easy. The sea, the deep mysterious sea, with its changeful, elusive hues and its passionate moods! The do.ninant mood. I fancy, is melancholy. The sea lifts up its voice only to weep, and every sea-sound dies away in a sob or a wail. When the crested waves break into foam, what are the spray drops but the tears of the salt sea.' It not only yields a grave to the countless millions that are buried beneath Its waters, but weeps for them ever, and chants over them an unending requiem. And its lone- Imess IS beyond words. Mid-ocean seems the native home of solitude— a solitude that the passing ship leaves unbroken. What a tale this lonely, moaning sea could tell of the men who have sunk into its depths. " unknelled, un- coffined. and unknown! " But till it gives up Its dead, that tale shall not be told. 116 FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLKS Decembhr i6. Late last evening I sat talking m the smok- ing-room with a Protestant gentleman from Minneapolis. Some years apo he visited the Holy Land, and I was interested in the account he gave of it. He dues not seem to have been much impressed by the country itself or its sanctuaries. " The most beautiful sight I saw in the Holy Land." he declared with evident sincerity-. " was the face of a nun." It was not the physical, but the spiritual beauty of the face that struck him and imprinted itself upon his memory. A beautiful soul beamed out from it— a soul made beautiful by close com- munion with God. •' I will feed on God," says Alexandrine in A Sister's Story, not knowing very well at the moment what she means. But she did feed on God. and became beautiful as an angel, with that beauty which never can fade. If we would be truly beautiful let us feed on God the Uncreated Beauty, ever an- cient and ever new. • ♦ * FROM NKW YORK TO XAPLKS 117 i December 17. Hou- shall we feed r,n God? First by prayer. Xot as c.miplctelv is the fish im- mersed in the sea or the bird in the air as the soul is in Co» December 20. Our second Sunday at sea. I say the Rosary and Litany in the second cabin, where there are a number of Italians. I also give a short instruction. A wee mite of a boy. with the coal black hair and dark complexion of the South, keeps eyeing me curiously the while, as if wondering how one who looks so little like a countryman can speak the language. Ever since we got fairly away from the American coast we have had summer weather, the thermometer ranging from 50 to 70 de- grees. The temperature of the water has been even higher. One day it was 72 degrees ; this morning it was 62. The Gulf Stream i^ here at its widest. Only the short day can bring home to us the fact that we are at the winter solstice. FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES 121 December 21. To-df V the k rgei gulls that haunt the sea- shore an ! I'cst in thj rocks are abroad. They are tokens that the land is not very far away. Sometime to-night we reach Gibraltar, but must lie outside till morning, for no ship can enter the port of that grim fortress save in the clay. Xow that our ocean voyage is nearing its end. our thoughts turn back to the loved ones we have left behind. The uppermost feeling in my own mind at the moment is gratitude, first to God for all His goodness, and next to the many friends, whether personally known to me or not, who have so generously given of their means and freed my mind from all anx- iety on that score. I feel that I owe them more than can be put in words. May the peace of God and His blessing abide with them al- ways, and may He, in His own way and in His own good time, repay them a hundredfold. This batch of notes was mailed at Gibraltar. FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES I II December 22. I AST night we reached Gibraltar and dropped anchor in the bay. It was an impressive sight when first we came in view of land. On our right lay Morocco, on our left Spain, and the lights on either shore became visible about the same time. There are not many spots even on this goodly globe of ours where one can see two continents. The night was lovely, the air almost I)almy, the stars were all out— ever so many more stars than can be seen at home— and we stood long on deck and gazed our fill at the splendour of the night. Truly the skies declare the glory of God and the firmament of heaven shows forth the work of His hands. This morning, about 8.30, most of the first- class passengers landed in a tender. It was good to feel one's foot once more on terra firma 122 FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES 123 —and surely if there is firm footing on earth it is the Rock of Gibraltar. The place I will not attempt to describe ; that were quite beyond me. Enough to say, and certainly not too much, that the panorama which lies before one from half-way up the mountain— we had not time to go all the way— is one of the grandest that anywhere unfolds itself to the eye of man. And the city is full of interest. Tt is the meet- ing-place of two continents, the free mart and seaport of all nations, the most famous strong- hold of the greatest empire under the sun. One could wish if one had time, to study the vari- ous types of humanity that gather here. By all odds the most striking is the turban'd Moor, with h- ,wart features, his impassive face, his pictu'. costume, his gait and carriage' not lackm^ .u dignity. We enter the prmcipal Catholic Church, rather a fine building, and are happily able to assist at Mass. We see the Bishop for a moment, an Italian Benedictine, a native of Siena, a ve y genial and pleasant man. By eleven we are back on board, and by noon are steaming around Barracks Point and entering the Mediterranean. 1«4 FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES December 23. We have made our best run— 348 knots from noon yesterday till noon to-day. Our ship, though a splendid seaboat, is not speedy, and these two last trips has fallen behind her sched- ule. .-\n expert engineer, sent down especially from London, has joined us at Gibraltar, and we are now making better time. Smooth seas sunny skies, and a summer temperature have made this latter part of our voyage extr-mely pleasant, and yet we long for its end. or rather we long to reach our goal. Several of the pas- sengers left us at Gibraltar, others joined us there. It is the way of life, which is all sum- med up m a coming and a going and a passing away. In truth we do but get glimpses of one another as we pass through it. How short is al that comes to an end ! " We have not here a lastmg city, but seek one which is to come " December 24. Sardinia's snowy mountain tops fringing the southern sky. The line comes hack to me from school days, as I gaze on those mountain-tops, bare and FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES 126 rugged and snowless to-day. Sardinia is one of the largest islands in the Mediterranean It has a population of more than 700...00. Once one of the granaries of Carthage, and later of impenal Rome, it is now in great part untilled and barren. The natives are more like Span- K.rds than Italians, though the island I)elongs to Jtaly In certain districts of the i.torior the people speak the Latin tongue, which serves o confute the received notion-never more than a wretched half-truth, and not even as rnuch-that Latin is a dead language. What, he language of the Church Catholic a dead language ! Not vhile she lives, and the eternal years of God are hers. Christmas at sea; Christmas without the ^onted Christmas cheer; Christmas far from home and friends. But so were Marv and Joseph on that first Christmas night in Bethle- hem, far from home and friends. And. please bod. we are going to land in Naples to-mor- row m time to celebrate the Christ-Mass 1«6 FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES •■ December 25. Before daylight this Christmas morning we are on deck, where we linger most of the time till our ship is docked in Naples at 10 a. m. The approach to the city from the sea is very grand. In the gray dawn we discern the light on Ischia, which shows far out at sea. As day creeps on, the outline of Vesuvius becomes dimly visible through the morning haze. We pass some islets, then Pozzuoli and other sub- urbs of the queenly city. The sun is now full ri.sen ; 't is Morn on the waters, and purple and bright its light illuminates the lovely bay, gilds the heights of Sant' Elmo and the roofs of Chiaia. which curves beneath. The docks and shipping lie further on, and beyond them rises the giant form of dread Vesuvius. Little wonder that lovers of panoramic scenery go into raptures over this scene. If it is not " See Naples and die," at any rate it is " See Naples and never- more forget." The words of the well-known boat song come unbidden to one's lips: l\ PROM NEW VOKK TO NAPLES 1^7 O dolce NapoH ! O suol beato ! Ove sorridere Vuole il create; Tu sei r impero Deir armonia; Santa Lucia. Santa Lucia! O lovely Naples ! Favoured ground, Where smiling Nature's Charms abound ; The native home Of beauty thou : Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia ! It takes a deal of ceremony to get a big ship like ours docked, and a deal of patience to wait on an empty stomach for the word to land. At last we are ashore, through the custom-house. and on our way to the Convent of the Soeurs de L'Esperance, No. lo \ia Santa Teresa, Chiaia. We say Mass at 11.30 a. m. in the Church of St. Teresa hard by. which, with the adjoining monastery is in the hands of the Dis- eased Carmelites. In the afternoon we take a walk on the esplanade, which runs along the ill 'In h i 128 FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES bay, visit the Aquarium, mount the hill to Sant' Elmo, and from that commanding height gaze upon the city, the bay, and the broken ranges of mountains that stud the coast. The native band of Chiaia, a great but inharmonious con- cert of crowing roosters, awakens us next morning long before the dawn, and by 10.30 we are getting our last glimpse of cloud-capped Vesuvius from the window of the Romeward- bound train. December 26. The country through which we pass for the first hour or two after quitting Naples does not yield in beauty or fertility even to the plains of Lombardy. Every foot of it is tilled; the tillage is intensive as well as extensive. Here the vine is trailed on great rows of trees, the wide spaces between being now green with all manner of vegetables, while the stately Italian pine lends an added grace and dignity to the landscape. As we go further north, the broad plain narrows into valleys hemmed in by bare and lofty mountains, with here a village cling- ing to a rocky slope, and there a lone monastery crowning a rugged crest. By noon we reach FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES 129 Casino, and presently admiring eyes are raised to the giddy height where the great abbey of that name, famed in story, lords it over all the land. As straws show how the wind blows, so very little things serve oftentimes to bring racial and national characteristics into clear relief. Thus over a plot of green in the public garden at Chiaia. I read these formidable words of warn- ing: I TRASGRESSORT SAR \NNO PU- NITI A NORMA DI lAlGGE, which may be rendered: TRESPASSERS SHALL BE PUNISHED ro THE LIMIT OE THE LAW. We simply and bluntly say : Keep ofif the grass! Again, a railway ticket, on which with us are sometimes found the words, Not transferable, bears here the blazoned legend. La cessione e punita a termini di legge. that is to say, The transfer is pimishable in the precise manner laid down in the law. On the other hand, the attempt of some Italian railwav offi- cial to ape your bluff Englishman, in rendering a notice graven in letters of bronze on the win- dow of our carriage, E pericoloso sporgersi— It is dangerous to put one's head out of the .window, comes to grief in this ludicrous fash- 180 FROM NEW YORK TO NAPLES ion, similarly cut in bronze, Don't stretch out I Ecco Roma f We have finished our journey. Monday afternoon (Dec. 29) I saw Cardinal Gotti. This (Tuesday), evening I go on re- treat at the Lazarist Mission House near Montecitorio, where I made my retreat for the priesthood twenty-five years ago. Sunday (Jan. 3) is the day fixed for the consecration. There is a hastening of events, as one chapter of life firavvs to a close ; and hastily I dose this last paragraph. !(,1 ■ii. ! FROM NAPLES TO CAIRO. Wednesday, January 20. 1909. jE leave Rome by the 10 a. w. express and reach Naples at 14.30. Yestcr- ther words of the saint that we read in her Foundations, ch. xxxi : " O my Lord, how true it is that you repay with a cross those who do you a service! But what an inestimal)le treasure that cross is to those who truly love you. were it but given them at once to realize its value ! And yet, they would not have sought to possess themselves of the treasure, the price to be paid seeming at the moment too great." So hard is it for us to bear what presses here and now upon us, even when we are quite persuaded that every trial is a crucible for the minting of heaven's gold. 4i 41 * I did but pass through Madrid on my way to Avila. The city is modern, having none of the quaintness of other Spanish towns. The TIIKOIGH SPAIN 147 Loreto Xuns have a convent and school in the outskirts. Even the little tots must speak Knjj- Iisli. A crnirse at this convent is jjreatly de- sired for their daii^^diters l.y Spanish mothers sitice Princess X'ictoria cartie to j,liare with Alfonso the throne of Spain. Alioiit midway hetvveen Madrid and \vi|a, with great rid^t's ..t rock al)ove and around it.' •stands the palace of the i'.scorial. built hy Philip the Second, husband >^i Marv Tudor It compares with the pyramifls of Kgyin in size and soIidit> It is at once a palace, a monastery, a church, a.id a mausoleum. There are not in all the world more jjor^cou, tombs than those that here enclo.c the ashes of the kings and .|ueens of Spain. I,, the treasury of the monastery I saw the little statue .--'the Blessed Virgin before which Pope St. I'uis V !)rayed during the battle of Lepanto. Queon Khzabeth IT has decked it with a crown o» hrdhants. In the library, among mauiscipt, of priceless value, are four of the autograp! writings of St. Teresa, the Rook of the Fn-.m- dations, the Manner of Visiting Convents, the 148 THROUGH SPAIN Way of Perfection, and the Life by herself. All these were collected, not without difficulty, by the royal founder of the Escorial, who died sixteen years after St. Teresa, in 1598. * Ai * Avila, famed evermore as the birthplace and home of St. Teresa, is situated in the centre of the province of that name, west of Segovia and south of Valladolid. The hill on which it stands ri.ses out of an undulating coun- try to the north, and, on the south, overlooks a broad plain which stretches away almost as far as the eye can see to a range of mountains known as the Sierras of Avila. The waters of the Adaja river bathe the foot of the cliflFs to the west. On the southwestern slope of the hill, facing the wide extent of meadow land and the distant mountains, stands the old home of St. Teresa, enclosed within a Dominican monastery. Here one is shown the room where she was born, now a chapel in which the Blessed Sacrament is kept. Here also, but some feet under the ground— for old things have a way of sinking into the earth—, is the little garden where, a child of seven, she played THROUGH SPAIN 149 at being a nun. and with her brother, four years her senior planned to seek the crown of martyrdom among the Moors. *' We settled " she tells us, " to go together to the country of the Moors, begging our way there for the love ot God. that we might be beheaded there - I ran away." was the naive excuse precocious piety gave her mother. " because I wanted to dying'' '""^ '"' '""""' ^° '^'' ^^ith«"t * * * Avda .3 httle changed since Teresa de Ahmr.da and Rodriquez de Cepeda stole softly along ,ts c bbled streets and left its lofty portals behind, m the gray dawn of that sum- mer s day. some four hundred > ears ago The stones smce woni by many feet, are the same «^at they trod; the stout walls that defied Moorish assault still look proudly down upon the stranger that enters at the gate. Out- whth r"' "" *"^ ^^''^'-'^ houses which are fragrant with the memories of St other the Monastery of the Incarnation The latter stands on a hill a few hundred yards to m 150 THROUGH SPAIN the north of the town. There Teresa first made her vows, and there she Hved for twenty- seven years, three of which she was Prioress. Among her reHcs there are ( i ) a Httle water jug, (2) a crucifix borne by her when she went forth to found new convents, (3) the key of her cell, (4) a document concerning the dowrv of a religious, signed by the saint and the four nuns who established with her the new foun- dation. I sat in the chair, by the side of the grille, where St. Peter of Alcantara and St Francis Borgia conversed with her on spiritual subjects. It was there that a nun, happening along one day, found herself and St. John of the Cross raised above the ground in an ecstasy of contemplation. The quick-witted Teresa put it all on her companion. " See," she said, " what comes of talking with Father John ! " * * ♦ St. Joseph's of Avila. now known as the Convent of St. Teresa, is on the east side, just outside the walls, but within the town limits. It was the saint's first foundation, the be- ginning of the Reform. Here are several relics, among others a tambourine on which THROUGH SPAIN 151 the saint used to play. Her body lies in- corrupt at Alba de Tormes. where she died. The morning I went to say Mass at St. Joseph's, I was accompanied by two lilnglish ladies, a mother and daughter, Anglicans both. very High Church, and very much interested in all that related to St. Teresa. They knelt to the Blessed Sacrament on entering, and as- sisted at Mass with every mark of devotion. We afterwards spoke with the nuns at the grating. They showed us the relics of their holy foundress, and bade us be sure to visit the chapel built by her in connection with her first foundation. I had told the mother the night before of the sweet odor I perceived when, at the Escorial. the Augustinian Father had opened the glass case that contained the four autograph writings of St. Teresa. Just as we entered the chapel I felt the same sweet odor, and asked the mother if she perceived it. "Yes," she said, "but it is a very elusive odor." A nun at Seville had spoken to me of the odor exhaled by the relics of the saint, and had said that some perceived it but others didn't, and that even to the same person it was perceptible at times, at other times 152 THROUGH SPAIN not. It seemed to me something like the odor of incense, and yet I am quite sure it was not that. I was much impressed with the fact that it was the self-same odor I perceived in those two widely distant places. He * * At the hotel in Avila I met an American lady who had not visited her native land in five years. She was so takci with Europe, she said, that she thought she should never cross the Atlantic again. Perhaps the recent terrible happenings may have made her change her mind. The conversation turning on St. Te- resa, I said I looked upon her as being, after the Blessed Virgin, the greatest woman saint that ever lived. My American friend believed she must yield the palm to St. Catherine of Siena. And truly the latter may contest the palm in the outer world of action. But I was thinking rather of the inner world of the spirit, where piety rears " a building of God, a house not made with hands." No one has thrown clearer or more copious light upon the things of that inner world than the author of " The Way of \M THROUGH SPAIN 153 Perfection " and " The Castle of the Soul." For the rest. *' star dififers from star in bright- ness," and it is not for us, short-sighted and dim of vision as we are, to say which shines with the greatest lustre. Stars there are. too, in the firmament of the Church that have never swum into our ken. We shall see them when we have passed hence, even as those who pass to the other side of the globe behold the South- em Cross.— Mrs. Hemans's lines on that bril- liant constellation come to one unbidden : they are put in the mouth of some son or daughter of Spain : Thou recallest the ages when first o'er the main My fathers unfolded the ensign of Spain. And planted their faith in the regions that see Its unperishing symbol emblazoned in thee. Shine on— my own land is a far distant spot. And the stars of thy sphere can enlighten' it not, And the eyes thai I love, though e'en now they may be O'er the firmament wandering, can gaze not on thee ! * * 4i 104 THROUGH SPAIN On leaving Avila I visited Valladolid. To me the most interesting place there was the Scots College, once a home of the Jesuits and their house of studies in the days of the great Suarez. Here many of the men who kept the torch of faith burning in the Scottish High- lands during the dark night of persecution re- ceived their education for the priesthood. The Very Reverend Alexander MacDonald, V. G., who died at Mabon, Cape Breton, in 1865. left Valladolid for Lismore, Scotland, in 1816, as the college records bear witness. It was from him I got in baptism the light of faith. I slept at San Sebastian on my way to Lourdes. Of my visit to that famous shrine I write elsewhere. LOURDES REVISITED. Victoria, B. C, August, 19 14. visited Lourdes again in May of the present year. Much water had passed under tlie old stone bridge that spans the Gave since last I gazed on that swirling stream, and listened to the hoarse music of its voice. Lourdes has grown a great deal in these fourteen years. The old town has wid- ened its bounds on the right bank of the river, and on the left the low meadow land is covered with shops and hotels. These, indeed, may be said to make up the town. In the shops, as I also noted when last I was there, the wares are almost wholly of a devotional character— a fact that gave rise to the following incident. The joke that gives it point is at mv own ex- pense. I left my soap at Saint Sebastian, the last town in Spain ere you cross into France. It may be needful to tell the reader that the traveller in Europe has to carry his own soap. 166 ' ! 106 LOURDES REVISITED T wanted to buy that necessary article in I.oiirdcs. but did not know where to get it. The stores that lined the streets on either side seemed to offer nothing but beads, medals, stat- ues, etc. What was worse, I could not for the life of me recall the French word for soap. I tried to get at it through the Italian " sapone." Cutting off the final vowel, I entered the near- est store, and boldly asked for " sapon." The salesmaid at first looked puzzled. But on my repeating the order, her face broke into a smile of comprehension. Quickly she sped to a c(jrner of the store, and thence brought me a tiny statue of St. Paul ! " Sapon." no doubt, sounded more like " Saint Pol '* than like the elusive " savon " that I had tried in vain to get hold of. Going into another shop, where a win- dow bore the legend " English and German spoken." I asked for soap. They told me the girl who was to wait on English-speaking cus- tomers had not yet joined the staff. I inquired in Italian if they knew that language, and to my great relief was answered in the affirma- tive, and directed to a little shop down a near street, where I bought an excellent piece of soap that is still in my pc ^session. Man has wrought many changes in Lourdes. LOURDES REVISITED 157 Only the works of God remain unchanged. The Gave flows merrily on. singing its way to the sea. Round about are the eternal hills, which change not. The grotto in the rocks of Massabielle still looks out over the hurrying river, even as Our Lady, from her (|uiet niche, smiles down upon the ever flowing and ebbing multitude at her feet. How mighty has been that tide of pilgrimage since last I knelt before the statue of Our Lady there! Dav by day. month by month, year by year, it 'keeps re- newing itself, flowing ever onward like the leaping waters of the Gave. I reached Lourdes on the eve of Saturday, May 10. and stayed there over Sunday. The great Swiss national pilgrimage was there, in eight trains: a pilgrimage from Metz in two trains; a mixed pilgrimage from Strassburg, in two trains; the seventeenth pilgrimage from Namur in three trains; the ninth national Bavarian pilgrimage in two trains; and the ninth Austrian, also in two trains. There were m all some fifteen thousand pilgrims, of many nations and many tongues. But one was the faith that drew them thither; one the de- votion. And one was the hymn they sang in unison in the marvellous torchlight procession Ifi8 LOURDES REVISITED I i i that night. I stood watching it as it wound its way down the great oval pathway through the meadow of Lourdes. The spire of the stately basilica that stands over the Grotto, the grand facade, and the Church of the Rosary beneath, were all ablaze. Then ten thousand pilgrims^ a very torrent of movinjj lights, poured into the pathway, circled slowly round it, sway- ing and singing as they passed along. The sounds that rose upon the night air, under the listening stars, were as the voices of the sea. A thought that saddens comes to me as I write these words, after three short months. Many, many of the men who walked side by side in that procession have ere now met face to face on Euroi)ean battlefields. Man is part beast, and part ar^^el. The angel is of God, the beast of the earth, earthy. And the beast tlint is in man, true to its nature, fights its fel- lows; the angel can but weep over the fallen and the slain. What a sight that was of sick and suffering humanity before the statue of Our Lady in the rocks of Massabielle! It seemed as if all the ills that poor human flesh is heir to were brought together there. One had not the heart LOT'RDFS REVrsITFD lag to ask favour'- for oneself, so piteous was the spectacle of so much misery unrelievcrl. For out of the thousands that yearly seek a cure at Lourdes but few are made whole. \'et all are renewed in spirit, and strengthened to be»r their ailments with Christian resignation. It IS not that they want faith: it is rather that God does not will to free even those who have faith from all evil here below. "It is ap- pointed unto man once to die." Through many tribulations, through the gates of death itself, we must enter into the Kingdom of God, King- dom of endless ages, whereon, as St. Augus- tine so beautifully expresses it. "sits the un- troubled light, and the peace of God that passeth all understanding." Meanwhile in patience we shall possess our souls. A year ago one came to Lourdes, a girl from a town in France, sick beyond all human hope of recovery. She had a complication of mala- dies, including consumption in its last stage Her doctor, an unl^eliever, deemed it madness in her to undertake the long jo -ney. But go she would. He told her. if she were cured he himself would go with her next year to Lourdes. They were both of them there the M 100 LOURDES REVISITED Sunday I was there — she to thank Our Lady for the wondrous favour, he to ponder upon the superhuman power that wrought it, and to find, let us hope, healing and peace for his soul. In a corner of France, amid the foothills and under the shadow of the Pyrenees, Lourdes lies sheltered with its holy shrine. Afar it lies from the madding strife that now ravages and reddens with blood many a fair field that was white unto harvest. Let us pray Our Lady that the war may soon be over — that He who chid the wild waves on the sea of Galilee may now stay the fierce onset of angry passions, and bring a great calm. I I I A FEW MORE STRAY LEAVES AND TRACES. I HE passage from \ew York in Gib- raltar took twelve clays. The " Sax- onia " is sl..\., |,ut sure and stcadv. There was little .sea-.u-Kn- ss. and le- . cmse for it, but sniall-p.,x 1,1,^^ m,ii :,: ii,e steer- age our first (lay at sea. T'..' tlMld— for a child it was that showed the rcrul .v,inpt.)nis —was at once placed in the i,olatiun ho^iital. We all had to be vaccinated, and iw " .-i..a onia" steamed into the harlxxir < f lunchal, Madeira, flying the yellow-jack, ''here « however. little fear of infectioti anu^PK our fellow-passengers in the first cabin, as became apparent the night before we made port. There was a dance on tin- deck, which we were all invited to join. Conspicuous on the list of dances that lay before each ijassenger as we sat down that evening to the dinner table was " the vaccination waltz ! '• Next nit»rning a pathetic little wooden box, roughly carpen- tered, was landed at Madeira. It contained the 161 i 16S A FEW MORE STRAY remains of the little child which had died in port — not of small-pox, which had turned out after all "o be chicken-pox — but of two hard- boiled eggs administered by a fond mother dur- ing convalescence. So at least the story ran on board ship, though I fancy it was just made up to free us the more completely from appre- hension. Madeira is one of the loveliest islands of the sea. The waters around it are of the deep- est blue, and' its sloping fields of the richest ver- dure. Funchal, the capital city, is on the shores of a winding bay. The houses spot- lessly v/hite, the roofs red-tiled, form a pleas- ing contrast of colour with the green of the fields and the tropical tree- ^ ound about them. Madeira belongs to Portugal. The inhabitants are almost all of them Catholics, and very devout. The storm of persecution that so lately burst over the mother country has spared this distant daughter in her sea-girt home. Quitting the boat at Gibraltar, and passing by rail through Spain and the south of France, I reached Rome before the middle of May. LEAVES AND TRACES 163 Rome is greatly changed since I knew it first, and changed, I am free to own. for the better.' New streets have been opened, old ones straightened and widened, and all the streets are fairly well kept. The city has taken over the magnificent Villa Borghese, and turned it mto a park, to which access is given, out of the very heart of Rome, from piazza Barberini, along a broad highway, acmss the Pincian Hill The deep valley beyond is bridged by a lofty embankment. No city is more favoured than Rome m its parks and fountains. Rome is greatly changed, too. spiritually, and for the better. There is more of devotion in the churches : more of respect, or at least of outward respect, for the pilgrim in the streets. In Rome ecclesiastical things are pretty much as they have always been. There is a saying familiar to the theologian, Communia vilcscunt —common things are held uncominonly cheap. What so common as the priest in Rome! None so poor as to do him reverence. Even a bishop on occasion does not fare much better. Apropos of this T have been told a story, which to quote the well-worn Italian saying, Se non 164 A FEW MORE STRAY e vero, e ben trovato — if not true, is a clever take-off, and may serve to point a moral. Last winter there was a grand function in the Sixtine Chapel. The Holy Father was there, and the place was packed with people. They kept pressing forward in their eagerness to get near the Pope. At last the papal guard turned their backs to the multitude, and held them there. A belated Cardinal tried to force his way through, but couldn't. Taking one of the guard by the shoulder, he told him who he was and that he had to get by. " Oh, pardon me, your Eminence." cried the soldier, greatly taken aback, " I thought you were only a Bishop!" I 1^ The public consistory of May the 28th, viewed simply as a pageant, was well worth waiting for. Cardinals and bishops, in their scarlet and purple robes, lined the front seats, and the elect Cardinals, in gorgeous panoply, brought up the rear of a long procession. The ambassadors to the Holy See and the heads of the old noble families of Rome, were con- spicuous in seats specially reserved for them. LEAVES AND TRACES 165 But what struck one as without parallel in so august an assemblage was this singular cir- cumstance: a peasant from Riese sat in the throne of Peter, and three other peasants from Riese, two sisters and a niece, who bore about them all the marks of their peasant ancestry, occupied the place of honour in a tribune hard by. It was the apotheosis of democracy. The like had never been seen at the Papal Court, at lea.st since the swineherd Sixtus, the fifth of that name, refused to receive, when dressed as a fine lady, the mother whom he afterwards welcomed when she came back to him in her peasant costume. It is not easy to gain admittance to a papal consistory, and thereby hangs another tale. From immemorial time the noble Roman fam- ilies have a sort of prescriptive right to a large number of admission tickets, which they use in part themselves, and in part, it is said, ofifer for sale in the hotels of Rome. These are eagerly bought up b^ tourists and travellers, who are largely Protestant. Hence it comes to pass that while a bishop often cannot get a ticket for an attendant priest, hundreds of 106 A FEW MORE STRAY Protestants and unbelievers hold prominent places at the consistory. The story is of the time when Pasquino (whence our English "pasquinade") entertained the Romans with his clever satirical skits. They took the form of cartoons, and were placed during the night at the foot of a statue to which all Rome was wont to take its way to amuse itself of a morn- ing. After one of the public consi.stories, this is what greeted the eye of Rome. Two young men are hurrying to the Vatican. Some curi- ous passer-by bids them the time of day, and would know why they hasten so. " We are on our way." they say. " to the Vatican, to the consistory." " But where is the use of your going; you can't get in." "Oh, that's all right," rejoin the confident pair, " we turned Protestant yesterday ! " On leaving Rome I visited Assisi, fraught with memories of St. Francis and St. Clare. Loreto, also, with its Holy House, and from Ancona crossed to Tersatto. near Fiume, where the Angels first set down the House of the Vir- gin when they came with it over the sea. I recrossed the Adriatic to Venice in an .\ustrian LEAVES AND TRACES 167 boat. Four of us slept in one small stateroom packed like sardines. I could barely squeeze into my berth, and passed the night in dread lest the big burly German (known to be such by his gutturals) who occupied the upper berth should fall through and quite flatten mc out. My sympathies have always been with the un- der dog, and henceforth will be more than ever — for I was the under sardine ! We came to Venice in the early morning when the newly risen sun had turned every- thing into gold. There she sat a queen upon the waters. Small wonder that one Joseph Sarto should have pined, and pines still, in his prison-palace of the Vatican, for this old home of his on the sea. which it is his inclement des- tmy never more to set eyes on. Venice is a city without streets. In.stead there are canals and corridors— canals where glide the swan- hke gondolas, and corridors between the houses, so narrow that people living on oppo- site sides may shake hands across. While I sat writing the last paragraph the hfe of Pope Pius the Tenth was slowly ebbing 168 A FEW MORE STRAY away. He was passing to the better world, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest. He had fought the good fight, he had kept the faith. He had laboured while yet it was day, knowing that the night Cometh when no one can labour more. His was a truly simple and apostolic life. He had a single eye to the glory of God and the good of his fellow-man. If ever there was one who could say that he sought not the office, but that the office sought him, he was the Pope whose loss we mourn. He has done an endur- ing work for God and the Church, and has left an inspiring example of a life untainted with worldliness and fragrant with faith and good works. Eternal rest grant to him, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon him ! I spent a night in Domodossola just beyond the beautiful Lago Maggiore, in the Italian Alps. Here the Rosminian Fathers have a col- lege for boys, largely attended. A unique fea- ture of the museum is a room filled with la- belled specimens of the different kinds of stone taken from the great Simplon tunnel — an al- most endless variety. Beyond the Simplon, on LEAVES AND TRACES 169 the Swiss side, the train, which is driven by electricity, passes along the side of a precipi- tous mountain. An Alpine river winds its way two thousand feet below. From the window of the train I caught a glimpse of a flying aeroplane, about midway down. Far beyond on the other side the eye rested on great fields of untrodden snow. The valleys of Switzer- land are for the most part so narrow that it is easy to get a good view of the wonderful mountain scenery. At Berne I had just time to pay a visit to my old acfiuaintances — I dare not say friends — the bears. There are as many as seven of them now in the underground enclosure across the Aar river, the cubbies that I saw on my first visit having grown into bears. I bought one or two specimens of the beast in wood, and saw many more that would have made inter- esting additions to my former repertoire — bears painting, bears playing cards, bears play- ing the piano, bears working in wood, bears smoking long German pipes, bears nursing sick bears, and bears rejoicing in the birth of cub- bies! 170 A FEW MORE STRAY From Bcrnc I passed to Strassburg, from Strassburg along the banks of the Rhine to Cologne, and from Cologne to Aix-la-Chapelle, known to me from schooldays as a place where peace treaties were signed. Peace then brooded on the land, a land of plenty, smiling with promise of a rich harvest. But on every hand were soldiers, and the whole nation ap- peared to be cast in a military mould. What- ever the ;.atcome of the terrible war into which Europe is plunged to-day, the future historian will record and lay due stress on this signifi- cant fact, that Germany led the world in war- like preparation, and that other nations did but strive to keep pace with her. The return voyage, on the Empress of Brit- ain, was almost without incident. «Jne day of storm we had, in mid-ocean, when our big ship was tossed about and great seas broke over her. A day or two later, on the banks of New- foundland, an iceberg was sighted almost di- rectly ahead. It looked ghostlike as it loomed up out of the haze, and the air for miles around was chill as winter. I left the ship at Rim- ouski, about sunrise of a July morning, close to the spot where her sister ship went down a few weeks before with almost every soul on LEAVES AND TRACES 171 board. At Rimouski I took an eastbound train to my old home, feeling, as I never felt before, the force of Sir Walter's undying lines : Breathes there a man with soul so dead Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ! Whose heart hath ne'er within him burn'd, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand. WORKM MY THK ■T. HBV. AI.BXANOBR MmDONALO. D.D^ Bi.te» .1 VI..,rU. B.C. Th« Sy»lioi of thm AportI— . A VlndlctUon of t»H« Ap«>Htoltc Authorship of th» Crmi on tb« Llnw of Catholic Trtdltlon. By Rt. Riv. Aimx. Macbokau). D. D.. BlBhop of \ ictorla. B. C. 12mo. 377 pp. Cloth, net, 1.25; full moroctfuilble flawa." Rt, R«v. Da. MacNul, of St. (Jeorjce. N. F. L. "A splendid example of critical scholarship "—r»« Ouidon. " We have read It twice, parts of It ..ftener. We are of the opinion that If some of those wIk» felt callnl upon to review It had done the same they would hardly have come to the conclusion with reHiKM't to It which thev seem to have reached. Dr. MncDonuld's splendid blsf.ry of the Apostles' Creed has a fresh Interest now for Its closlnu chapter dealing with the name Catholic' and when and how It came to be the distinct title of the Church."— Hev. L. A. Lambebt. LL. D., In S\w York Freeman'), Journal. "The author, n brilliant alumnus of the Koman Seminary of Propaganda, and a highly appreciated contributor ti) several Catholic periodicals. Is at once a metaphysician and a scholar. His refutation of Harnack's theory concerning the Creed bears the impress of the twofold quality of his subtle and searching mind. We believe the refutation In question is complete."— Mgr. L. A. Paquet, of Uvul University. "It Is a relief to come across a work like Bishop MacDonald's Symbol of the Apostles, after the dreary watt* MICROCOPY RESOLUTK3N TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 U. Ki IK I 1^ 14.0 1.4 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 ^ APPUBH IN/MGE Inc Sr: 1653 East Main S'.reet K= Rochester. New York 14609 USA .^ (716) 482 - 0300- Phone ^5 (716) 288 - 5989 - FoK of academic discussions that centre about this well-wora eonfossion of Christian faith."— Very Rev. Dr. Shahan. Im The Catholic Univeraity Bulletin. "The Htudent, be he a Roman Catholic, or a catholic- minded Presbyterian, or an out-and-out disciple of John Calvin, will read Dr. MacDonald's Symbol of the Apostles with interest and not without profit."— T/ie Presbyterian Witnefis. "The Symbol of the Apostles by Dr. MacDonald is a work of great erudition, and I congratulate the publishers on the way they have executed their part."— N. C. Matz, Bishop of Denver. A work of great merit and standard erudition.— Most Rev. Dr. Begin, Archbishop of Quebec. A contribution of the highest value to the historic aspects of our belief.— Bishop MacDonald, of Charlottetown, P. E. I. It is a learned work and should be in the library of every priest and educated layman.— Bishop Horstman, of Cleveland. A scholarly and edifying book.— Tfce Catholic Columbian. Based on original research and built up by critical acumen and masterly scholarship.- Tfce Catholic Record. Dr. MacDonald shows a very full and accurate knowl- edge of the early writers whose works have a bearing on the subject . . . . and by a process of keen and logical reasoning, builds up a new defence too solid and strong foi the artillery of historical criticism.— Tfce Cross. Bishop MacDonald has given us in this volume a palnstak Ing sr:.olarly work from a point of view nol so much In evidence In the present day discussion of th< subject as that which It opposes.— Tft*' HomUetic Monthly The book Is well indexed, and there is a list of th« authorities consulted in its preparation. His readers wil thank him for yielding to the request to add the ver; satisfactory closing cliapter oa the Catbolic name.— ffc Boston PUot. -Most I Th« Symbol in Srm onM. A TOriBB of Twenty-tlve Short Sermons ou th,. Article. ^ tf Cr^eU. By Rr. Rkv. a.^x. M;.rooNAi.D. D. D. V>mT 214 pp. net. UHi "Its chapters are pregnant with thought The r.? ,?' J^" ^''"^' *'^^"' '^^"°"''« '^n'l con,plete."-7-fce Catholic Transcript. " It Is lucid and easy in style, concise in arrangement, and magnetic in Its erudItion.--7'/,e. Catholic licgi^tc. "This work is all it professes to he. It ml«ht .iNn In. styled excellent sermons ou the Apostles" Creed;-*,. Church Progress. "We recommend this volume to our readers for their use and as u most appropriate gift to the lni|ulring Protestant."— r^e Catholic Record. "We think that this volume of Dr. MacDonald's will take a high place among works of this class. Altogether In matter and method, these sermons are well suited hotli to serve as sources to which preachers can have recourse and models for their own nork."-Thr Jfomilctir Monthly. The Sacrifice of t he Mass. "This Is a book of the highest merit, and one that should be in the hands of both the clergy and laity."— Tfce Catholic Columbian-Record. "Three chapters are headed: 1. The True Idea of Sacrifice, U. History of the Sacrificial Idea In the Mass 3. The Si.erlflclal Idea in the Mass. A careful analysis of each chapter precedes the w..rk, and an appendix of quota- tions Is added."— rftr Sarrcd Heart Review. "Theologians will find this book luminous and interert- ing.—The Pittsburg Catholic. "This cxplanaticn sets the reality of the sacrifice of tb* Mass in a new light and defends it agaiust the more or less rationalist theories that have been recently broached. No doubt this book, like the Symbol of the Apostlet, will excite comment." — The Canadian Mettenger of the dccred Heart. " To us the most luminous part of it seems his discussion of the Last Supper and its relation to the Cross. We are all so prone or so Impelled by our limitations to rej^ard truth as if it were a set of separate texts, like people walk- ing in a wooded country where they can only see small spaces one by one, that the- most helpful writer Is he who jOiides us to an eminence where we can see that things we thought diverse are but one or parts of one whole." — The Casket. "A second reading has deepened the first impression. I really think you have made a valuable contribution to theological science."— Right Rev. Dr. MacNeil; Bishop of St. George. Nfld., in a letter to the author. "The Sacrifice of the Mass," by the Rt. Rev. Alex. Mac- Donald, D. D., is "an historical and doctrinal Inquiry into the nature of the Euchpristic Sacrifice." Within the compass of six score pages Bishop MacDonald gives a succinct, scholarly, and adequate demonstration of the fact that the traditional Catholic conception of Holy Mass as being Identically the same Sacrifice primarily offered at the Last Supper and on the Cross- -a conception attested to by •X cloud of witnesses throughout the centuries — Is the very truth. As in the author's previous works, " The Symbol of the Apostles " and " Tf mbol in Sermons," there is in this volume abundant eviuence of many-sided erudition, trenchant logic, luminous exposition, and that suggoi-tlve- ness of reserved power which stamps the work of the well- e((ulpped scholar. The book is brought out in neat and attractive form by the Christian Press Association, New York.— Ave Maria. Fine cloth binding, net 1.00 B«Htfon« Onaationa of th« Day. Vol. I. ne^ 1.00 Volume I. 203 pp.. is a book of five essaj and two "Zrr 'T""' °' ^*^ ^•"'^°' QuestionlT,ieVirZ Birth-Mary Ever a Virgin-The Asaumption of the Virain Mary, and Bridginy the Grave. " •• Every student of theology will be stimulated by the book • " LT T'^KT'' «* ""- ^-™ '^^ >--ed !uUho; »an.I Itr . "'*''' " ""*" '^«*^ ^"'J « «'«de acquain- tance with purely secular llterature.-Ca/Ao/ic World "Simple and direct are his books, but what a world of toil they repre. -nt. » * Thoy are. indee testimonies to a devotion to Sacred Science, and they are also beyond .pL tlon proofs of a many-sided erudition which is as edlf 1^8 as it Is Instructlve.-CafAo^K- Record. euirying CathT.lT'""'"' !!''' ^'"'■'^ unreservedly to our educated Catholic laymen."— TAe Uuidon. " In forceful presentation of solid arguments and .resh- ness of color given to oldtime questions they the esLays) are equally meritorious."-4t;r Maria. ^^ Rali^loaa Qneatjona of the Day. Vol. H. Dr. MacDonald discusses the Symbol in the New Testn, -^^nt-The Discipline of the Sreret-The EthlalZp^Z Drummond on "Natural Law in the Spiritual World.") and The Imagination. 223 pp. cloth „,,; j Jj " It is in the firm mastering of those permanent truths- infnTi'f "• P'^'^^'P'^' ^»^-»°« 'ind human, the clear insight ^!?. H ,T°^°^ ««^ bearings, together with the practical metuod of their application to certain subjects now occupy- ng mens mind-it is in these qualities here in act, scJulo that constitute the permanent worth of these essavs ♦ • . set forth with the author's characte-lstlc precision, per- spicuity, and beauty of dkrion."-^,..,.,/„..,,v-«, /eer.nr "Treated with a dignity and .sureness sadly wanting in the work of the apologist, o-tsl.le the Church who have taken tli^ht ho iguominiuusiy befure the uusluughtH of tilt ' higher criticism.' • • ♦ Few present day writers on Catholic topics are clearer or more satisfying than Dr. MticDonaUl"—The Pilot. Pension* One««ion« of «he Day. Vol. 111. SoMK Modernistic Theobies and Tendencies Exposed, By the Rt. Rev. Alexandeb MacDonald, D. D. Vol. III. 12ni(). 329 pp. net, 1.00 VonWntH'. The Gospel Narratives; Are They Really Dlscrt^pant? The Catholic Encyclopaedia and the Higher Criticism — Alleged Process of Evolution — F'alse in Name and ill Fact— The Bible and Modern Dlfflcultles— The Bible tind the Higher Criticism— Biblical Dlfflcultles— A Novel with u I'urpo.se — History and Inspiration — ^The Firmament — The Atonoinent — God's Foreknowledge of Moral Evil — ^The Date of Our Lord's Birth. — Mgr. Duchesne and the Date of Nativity — The Holy House of Loreto — The Materials of the Holy House — ^The Assumption of the Bles.sed Virgin Mary and a Charge of Modernism — ^The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary — Papal and Concillar Infallibility — St. .VuRustlne and Evolution — The Apostles' Creed — A Critique in the Dublin Review — The Eucharistic Sacrifice- Grace the Life of God in the Soul. M editationa oa the Bleaaed Virftia. From the German of Rev. Francis Gabrlni, S. J. New edition carefully revised by the Rt. Rev. Alexander Mac- Donald, D. D., Bishop of Victoria, Canada. This book will fill a long-felt want and may be used dur- ing the mouth of May at the evening devotions. Each Meditation Is divided into Three Points. This plan will be found convenient for priests who have to preach or speak on the Blessed Virgin. It will not be difficult for them to find. In such a variety of matter what they are in quest of; and since the division is already made, and the matter already In order, they can have no further trouble thnn to develop, a little more, the matter furnished them in these pages. For religious this book will fill a niche that has long been vacant. Bound In cloth and contains 384 pages : net, $1.00 THE HOLY HOUSE OF LORETO A CRITICAL STUDY OF DOCUMENTS AND TRADITIONS BT THK RT. REV. ALEX. MACDONALD, D. D. Bi8iior or VicTOKiA. B. C. " We have had frooiient occasion to comment In these columns on the nianj slJed erudition, the tiencliant Iol'U' an, the luminous exjiositlon which chnracteri/e Ulshoi*. MacDonalds aiioloKetic work «enorully. and hav«. ex- pressed o»ir apiireciation of niucli of the material Ip the present volume. It will accordlnsly he sufJioient to re- mind onr readers that neither Canon Chevalier in his work, nor Father Thurston, in his article "Santa <'as'i '• In the "Catholic Encyclopedia," has said tlie last word as to the authenticity of the Holy House. The hook 1..- fore us cannot be disposed of by any suiwrcllious assinnp- tlon that "scholars no longer doubt that the Holy House is a pious fraud."— The .Vve M^^xhia. " Every lover of Our Lady and of tradition wih wel- come Bishop MacDonald's work, which forms a powerful protest against the Iconoclasm, which, under the name of sclentltic criticism, Is attempting to destroy well grounded traditions by arguments which are mere hv- potheses."— The Catholic Review. "Bishop MacDonald id an uncompromising defender of the ancient tradition concerning the Holv House of Loreto. He takes issue both with Father Thnrston's S^T "'ri? ^'^^** **^"^^ °^ <^»"o° Chevalh r, on whose hook Father Thurston evidently drew in the prepartion of his article. The polntf- at issue are well set f(,rth in Hlshon MacDonald's book, The Holy House of Loreto "— The Catholic Educational Review. " Catholics all over tne English-speaking world will hall with delight this masterful vindication of their devotion to Our Lady of Loreto. The learned Bishop in this book puts a qulptiis on thoso Kentlcnu-n who tlionglit they haok of 40<) pages, vindicated the faith that i« in him as to the reality of the Holy House of I.oreto and at the same time completely routed <'anon Chevalier's assertions to the contrary or doubt-castings on the i>Ious belief of ages."— (Utiiouc Register and Canadian I<:xten8Ion. " ni-shop MacDonald'.s leamtHl treatise, based on docu- mentary pvidenco as well as personal observation. In itjp- port of the miraculous transljition of the home of St. Joseph iind the r.lossod Virgin is highly interesting. Tl s latest contribution to ilarlan literature can not fall to «> very welcome and pleasing to d(>vout clients of the Mother of (Jod everywhere." — The Catuouc Light. "Rlshop AlacDonald's .^tudy of the documents and traditions of Loreto, are wide and comprehensive. He la a firm believer in the history of the Holy House and his book is a thorough .iiiswer to the skeptics .ind modernists who are influenced by the hypercritical views of the day. To all interested in the .sacred shrine the book will prove of very great interest." — The Tablet. " This History of the Holy House of Nazareth will be appreciated."— The Pittsbuboh Cathouc. 11 TXheii (•iiiion riu-valU.r'M " \otr..-l»aiiic .1.- I.on.tf,. " nn- penml evory on.. i.rHen.lInK to l>.> a • .scholarlv hiHtor- lan thought to Justify l.ls clal,,, by «h„utii,« tl.a't L..ro to was now as .l.a.l ax a doornail. On.. ..f tlu,f stron^Tsl joints van that prior to tho transl:.iioi. ..r tlu- Holy llousi.. no i.ii^riiij to Xazai"th Het.n.s to have luenfion..,! It. To on,, who known an v" d..clsh.. \\ ,o eoul.l uo to Lor.to and ut.t Hpt-ak of tl," I ons.. stan.lInK up un.l.'r th.- roof of n ,. |,.,sliU- v .smuiarly. who could hav. uon.- to Na.arot a d a vJ r..ma,n.-,l sll..„t al.out th.. Mou.s..V Thl.s prohal Iv «a v.^ u' ar«u.ii,.nf Its .um- for fh..vall..r an.l his fri.M. Is who, stran«.> as It may swm, ,u.v..r thou-ht it iv„r i,' While to >is,t ..lth..r Xazareth or I.:;..,.; IS la .! holr attack : which. Ilk., th.- staff of a mo,l..,n arlu ' ly Macl.onal.l. He was absolutely fandllar with Nazar.-t and Lurcto vi>|fin;; ,b,.u. n.ore than .u.c... though I... ,1 ve acr..ss the Atlantic in Anthfonlsh: and he brln;;s out he iuiportant fact that th.. House was in the crvpt oj th.. Nazareth Church, that it was in contact witi the Holy tamily. an.l that a v.-ry careful exandnati..n woMd have been r.'.|uir..d to .ILstin-iiish it from ili-m S.-e- oiidly, he shows that before the translation pii-riins'spoke ' .Hr. !"V^' "'"' *'"' *'"''''''' Xwf'i^^'- .••■^ the llolv House. «iid Ihirdly. that since the time of the fransjatini, a part that was spoken of by tli« pil^'riuis no ion;, .• eMsts in Nazareth, and liu.t its site nv.s a place .w vacant AKa n in dealing with Canon Chevaller-s assuiwi.ion that the t hurch of .St. Af-,ry in f„ml„ Luunti. exist in;; b,.fore th,. .late ..t translath.n. must \,v i.h.ntifi...| with the in!!*' Vm"**?; ^ "''"'"■^- f""''>«i"« I'i'ther Ks.-hbach. how wo ' VMr„n- ■' *" '''''''"'*" ""^' ^•"""^^•ti"" '•-•»•..«» the My warmest congratulations for your scholarly and ill my view, successful defence of th,. beautiful ami tiiii,-' orSzareTi?*""" ""^ ^^^ ""'''^"'^ trau.slation ..f the Ili CARDINAL BEtJIX. Quebec. I \ A SKBIBS or SMALL BOOKS FKOM THE WKITIlfOS OF i. VO»KIN(} F«)K HOD Ir. at and hainly form tli«^f deoply dtnotlonal work* are muly for the public. Hinhop MacDonald hoH made a Judicial HPh'ctlon of tho moHt utrlklnR trea .net- on the 'ovi. of n.)d. tho little Iwoks. well bound and cheap are sjiltiihio for viMltH to the Blensed Sacrament. Trivate He- tr.'iifs and H,KH?laI devotions, etc. They will be highly aiH jire>i,it«/cm Cathulir. 'Hie subjects are well chos-n and follow a natural se- quence, viz., Importance of Salvation. Eternity, Death, llell. Love of Jesus, etc.. etc.— Tfte Catholic Timet, Liver- pool, England. These are charming little works and will do much In promoting the greater glory of God. The Cbristlan Press iilw.iys make the book and the price with the Intention of leach' -I the greater numbe's.— r/kc Tablet. r.lsho,, MacDonald has In these neat and attractive little l><»<.lvs gatliored In a very small compass much of the very essence of the numerous writings of this great Doctor of the Church, ani hence deser.e a wide circulation.— TAe FJxponent. Black Silk Cloth net ..30 Seal, limp, gold edges net .30 Genuine Morocco, gold roll, red under gold edge* net §1.00 postage extra 3c Christian Press Associption Publishing Companir 26 BARCLAY STREET NEW rORK I n